


Surprises

by Hogwhorets



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hogwhorets/pseuds/Hogwhorets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you know is that you hooked up with some random guy three years ago after a brief introduction in a bar in downtown Cincinnati. It had seemed like nothing at the time, just a short affair that was over the next morning. You couldn't even remember what the guy looked like, much less his name. Of course, a few weeks later, a surprise arrived via pregnancy test, and you were forced to grow up. The only problem? Who the hell is this kid's dad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're just beginning to settle into your new home in Los Angeles. Scott, your four-year-old son, on the other hand, is beginning to get a bit angsty.

"Momma, where's Monkey?" Your rambunctious little four-year-old Scott came trotting around the counter, his ratty yellow blanket in tow and a huge, sorrowful expression on his face.

You sighed, continuing to slather peanut butter over the second piece of toast. Scott refused to eat his PB&J unless the bread had been toasted and the crusts cut off. He was a picky eater, and lucky that you loved him enough to cater to his gourmet tastes. "I'm not sure sweetheart, he's probably in one of the boxes. Did you look in the ones in your room?"

He plopped down on one of the bar-stools, struggling for a moment to get into it. "I tried, momma, but the tape is too hard to cut."

"I'll come help you after lunch, okay, sweetie?" You offered him his plate and a smile, happy to see him return the expression.

As he ate, you went about cleaning up the dishes, unsure of how exactly you'd gotten yourself into this position. Twenty five years old, and already catering to a small child of your own. Not to mention, you were a single mom, and you'd had to put your dreams of medical school to the side for now, because Scott always came first. And now, you were living in a huge, unfamiliar city, with no familiar faces and no favors to call on. You'd uprooted your life completely, all to escape the unique, but suffocating little town of Tipp City, Ohio. Sure, it was only an hour's drive from Cincinnati and all your friends and family lived within that limit, but you hadn't been able to take it any longer. You'd needed fresh air, new faces. Somewhere where nobody knew you. Excluding your friends and family, everyone else in your small hometown only knew you as (Y/N), the girl who'd gotten pregnant via a one night stand.

"All done, momma!" Scott bounded off of the stool, nearly slamming his face into the corner of the cabinet. "Time to find monkey! Come on!" He ran around the bar, grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the stained dishware.

You chuckled, struggling to avoid the boxes as you followed him up the stairs. The house was a mess, and the fact that it was rather small didn't help with the look. It was really more of a villa, but it was all you'd been able to afford - moving to Los Angeles wasn't cheap. Soon enough, you hoped, you'd be able to unpack everything and really settle into your new home. "Let's start in your room, kiddo."

Scott was way ahead of you, and thrust his electric blue safety scissors at you as you entered his room. "Here, mommy."

"Thank you, honey bun." You kissed his head and approached the box labeled, 'Toys,' stuffed cleverly into the corner. Working carefully at the tape, you managed to do a much cleaner job of removing it than he had, evident in the bunches of wadded tape along the sides, where he'd mashed it. "See? Here he is, right on top." You handed him his treasured stuffed animal - it was a green money, with ivory patches on the face and stomach. Your mom, his grandmother, had gotten it for him the day he was born. He'd been attached to it ever since.

"Thanks mommy!" He grabbed the monkey and ran away, out of sight and - hopefully - off to distract himself.

You tucked the scissors back into the drawer and unpacked the rest of the box, setting the stuffed animals neatly across his bed. Luckily, all of your furniture had been moved and arranged before moving in, so you could check that off your list.

"I'm gonna run out and get the mail sweetheart," You called, grabbing the keys off of the kitchen counter, "I'll be right outside. Behave, okay?"

Scott looked up as you passed the couch, giving you that sweet smile of his. "Alright mommy."

You grinned, feeling warmth spread across your chest. His smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pride for having helped make it. Despite your efforts, though, he didn't look a whole lot like you. He had unruly black curls, that spread thickly across his scalp and, if not trimmed often, down into his eyes. He also had a very pronounced jawline for his age, and a round, slightly large nose. His eyes were small, though, with a very slanted monolid that tilted upwards in the corners. Cat eyes, as his grandma said. The only identifiable thing was that he had your eye color, or at least you thought so. You didn't exactly remember what his dad's eye color was.

You closed the door behind you with one final glance to your son, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He was a sweet kid, and thus far, you'd been able to leave him alone for a couple of minutes without him ever getting into trouble. Of course, you refused to leave him alone for more than five minutes without another adult around, so he hardly had time to make any messes.

It was sunny outside, and very hot, as you'd heard would be a fairly consistent forecast. As you approached the small clump of mailboxes between you and your neighbor's house, you heard a few shouts coming from around the bend in the street. Sure enough, as you were pulling envelopes from their metal prison, three figures came ushering around the corner, all skating on some type of...shoe? From what you could tell, it was a sneaker with a wheel tucked up in the back of the shoe, allowing the person wearing them to maneuver around on their heels. The tallest of the three - a lanky boy with dirty blonde hair - was fairly good, and he was holding his camera up, probably recording the other two. The other two were similar in size, but one was slightly more toned and had very identifiable, bright red hair. He wasn't very good, and was wobbling around and braking every few steps.

The icing on the cake was when he lost his balance and fumbled forward, nearly taking you out in the process. You rushed backwards, slamming the crook of your back into the edge of your mailbox.

"Thanks," You muttered, picking up the littered envelopes from the ground.

"Nice goin', Mark!" The tall one shouted, tucking the phone into his pocket.

The guy with the red hair, "Mark," as the other guy called him, looked like he'd just hit a dog with his car. "I am so sorry," He murmured, trying to regulate his balance and get back up. You offered him a hand, helping him up, but quickly released it. You didn't want to leave Scott alone for this long.

"It's fine," You murmured, turning to leave. "Just try to be more careful, please? Kids play in the streets, and they're a lot more fragile." To soften your statement, you let out a soft chuckle, starting back towards your house.

"He is a kid," The other one shouted, slighter heavier than Mark, with dark hair. "But we'll try to keep him out of the street."

Mark chuckled along with them, but he tried his best to express his apology. "I really am sorry."

"It really is okay." You smiled, tucking the envelopes under your arm. "See you around."

As you walked back inside, Scott came running, dragging Monkey along behind him. "Who was that man?"

"I-" You glanced over, noticing the way the curtains were wrapped up on one side of the couch. "Were you watching out the window?"

"Yep!" He laughed, bounding over back to the couch. "Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?" You plopped down next to him, filtering through the mail.

"Next time you see the man, can you tell him that his hair is cool?"

You laughed softly, ruffling Scott's own helmet of curls. "I sure will."

 

 

 

 


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, how did it all begin? Well, maybe these conveniently placed flashbacks will clue you in.

It was your twenty-first birthday, and your friends had decided to take you out for a night in Cincinnati. It wasn't all that bad, considering it was only an hour's drive, and there was a hell of a lot more to do there than in your quaint little town. Courtney, by far your favorite of the group, couldn't stop talking about some bar downtown that she'd been dying to go to.

So, to make her shut up, you and three other friends had tagged along to this bar, and right now, you were on your own. Courtney was talking to some guy down the bar, and the other three had taken off to who knows where. You didn't mind, though. The music was good - the drinks too - and here you had a perfect view of today's catch. There were a few cute faces, but none of them really seemed worth talking to. One disinterested look and they moved on to other girls, grinding on them and calling them 'baby.' That wasn't really your cup of tea.

Once you thought about it, though, you realized that there _was_ a cute guy around that didn't seem too desperate for someone's attention. He seemed kind of the opposite, actually. Maybe even apathetic, or sad.

"Hey," You said to the woman behind the counter, who looked up with a grin. "Can I cover his tab?"

"Flipping the roles here, huh? Sure thing, sweetie." She flashed you a warm grin and made her way over to him, taking the check away from him. He looked surprised, and followed her movements all the way back to you, watching as you handed her a twenty dollar bill.

Almost immediately, he made his way over, looking less pleased and more...confused. "Why did you do that?"

"You looked sad," You said softly, offering a warm smile. Courtney would've taken the opportunity to whip out the seductive voice and bat her eyelashes, but that wasn't really you. Besides, you doubted the poor guy was up to the cause anyway. "Trouble?"

He sat down in the stool next to you, staring down at his glass. "You could say that."

"I'm a good listener, if you want to talk about it." You tried to smile, but the expression fell short the second you realized just how cheesy that sounded. "That came out a lot more like a pick-up line than I meant it to."

To your surprise, he chuckled, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Alright, well I dropped out of college to pursue something that I'm not even sure is going to turn out well."

You leaned your head on your hand, studying him as he spoke. He was really cute, now that you actually looked at him. His hair was unruly and black, in a faux-hawk sort of style that pointed up in the front. He was fit, from what you could tell, but you also picked up on the nerdy vibe, due to the glasses and gamer t-shirt. 

"I went through a really bad breakup," He said, shaking his head. "But I don't know why I mentioned that to a pretty girl at a bar."

"Things slip out," You shrugged, smiling softly. "It's alright. I know how you're feeling."

He smiled too, taking a sip of his drink. "I could've been an engineer."

You shrugged again, nudging his shoulder. "Maybe you'll be something greater."

He seemed to be mulling over that for a second, and then he looked at you. "This is going to sound so bad, but do you want to get out of here?"

__________________________________________

"Having trouble finding your keys?" You grinned, feeling his hot breath against your neck as he fumbled around in his pockets.

"Less than you think." He mumbled, using his unoccupied hand to unlock and push open the door to his apartment, shoving you inside. You obliged happily, kissing softly along his jawline. He was tense, grasping at you everywhere that he got the chance, his lips trailing kisses down your neck and collarbones.

"Someone's a little excited." Your words nearly disappeared into the skin of his neck, but he heard you, and you felt the grin spread out across his face. He pressed himself against you, trapping you in the small crook between the door and the wall. His lips were making a mockery of your skin, raising bursts of color in multiple places.

"I want you." He grumbled, fingers pulling greedily at your shirt. You helped him, pulling it up over your shoulders and tossing it to the floor. He paused for a moment, drinking you in, but his kisses remained relentless.

"Hey now, mister," You giggled, "I'm a lady, I deserve a bed, not a wall."

He laughed, joining in with your drunken amusement. "Certainly, miss." He pulled you up so that your legs were wrapped around his hips, fingers locked in his hair, and carried you to his bedroom. You barely had time to look at it before he threw you on the bed, towering over you with a hungry grin. "I want you," He repeated, chocolate eyes intense.

"Then take me," You groaned back, placing an eager kiss on his lips. He didn't waste time, and ripped off your pants, as well as his own. His shirt he nearly forgot, until you pulled at it, encouraging him to reveal his chest. It was definitely nice to look at. While you were busy admiring him in his stark nakedness, he went about removing you of your bra and panties, revealing every private inch of your skin.

"Beautiful," he grunted, trailing kisses down your ribcage. You were too drunk and driven with lust to object, so you let him, closing your eyes to enjoy to feeling. He'd barely been naked for a second before he thrust himself into you, pushing all the way in with one strong move of his hips.

"Oh... _fuck,"_ You moaned, digging your nails into his back. He took that as a sign, and began moving his hips, in small, slow rotations. He was already sweating a little, and the look on his face told you that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

"God _damn,"_ He was groaning loudly, pumping his hips in a way that filled you all the way up, exciting every inch of your insides. You swiveled your hips to meet him, which only made him groan louder. "Oh fuck."

You kissed his neck, gently biting his skin to show him how much you loved this. He responded with a shiver down his spine, all the way to his core, and his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

"Faster, faster," You moaned, and he obliged, pumping his hips so fast that you were sure he was going to rip you in half. It was effective, though, and you could feel your insides slowly turning to jelly.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna...," He buried his face in your shoulder, as if you might disappear if he let you go.

"Me too," You gripped tightly at his shoulders, spreading your legs as wide as they would go.

Surely enough, his thrusts slowed, and you felt something hot spew into you as he emptied himself with a grunt. You were convulsing yourself, tightening around him as your climax hit you like a brick. "Oh shit."

He relaxed on top of you, kissing softly at your face, and pulled out. With his absence, you felt his hot cum dripping down out of you, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. "That was... _amazing."_ He groaned, looking up at you from where he lay between your breasts.

You grinned, nodding in agreement. Your fingers began to play with his hair, twisting the short locks around softly. The action seemed to lull him to sleep, much quicker than it would have without the encouragement of alcohol and exhaustion. Sure enough, you were out not much longer, giving in to the dulling booze that fogged your brain.

\--------------------------------

"You're shitting me, right?" Courtney was in the kitchen of your apartment, staring at you with wide eyes. She brought the rim of her coffee cup down from her lips, resting it gently in her hands. "You can't be pregnant. (Y/N), come on. Do you even have sex?"

"Well, I haven't in a while, which is why I'm confused." You set the pregnancy test back down on the paper towel, pushing it away from you. This was just a dream, right? You were only twenty one. You couldn't be having a kid, that just wasn't fair. Pregnancy tests failed sometimes, right?

"Oh, wait, what about that guy from the bar? You went home with him, didn't you?" Courtney looked almost hopeful, as if she'd reconnect you with a lost love.

"Did I have sex with him?" You asked yourself aloud, trying to think. That night was a blur. "Ugh, I don't remember. Maybe I did."

"You sure booked out of there in the morning." Courtney laughed, setting her mug down. "Like damn, (Y/N), it was almost cold."

"What was I supposed to do?" You demanded. "I woke up in a bed with no clothes and a guy I'd never seen before sleeping on me. I freaked out a little. I at least left him a note, okay? I told him to have a good day."

"But you didn't sign your name."

"Of course I didn't sign my name, Courtney. Not everything is a Nicholas Sparks movie."

"I'm just saying." Courtney shrugged, eyeing the test one more time. "So what, then? You're pregnant. Are you gonna try and find the guy, let him know?"

"And say what? 'Hey, we had a one night stand a few weeks ago, but I'm pregnant, so I'll be expecting that child support check next week'? That's crazy." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. What were you supposed to do? If you truly were pregnant, not only would you have to finish the last few months of school this way, but you'd also have to come out knowing your life was immediately put on hold. This meant growing up, taking life by the horns. Could you do that? Especially without the father of the kid for support?

"Maybe not that, but at least look him up." She pulled out the Yellow Pages. "What's his name?"

"I don't know." You frowned, raising a brow at her.

"You don't know his name?"

"I think it started with an M? Maybe a B...,"

She shut the book, sighing. "(Y/N), you better pray to God your parents are supportive."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "I know, believe me, I know."

 

 

 


	3. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe Mark knows a little more than you think.

You'd woken up to something hitting you full-force, nearly taking the air out of you and dumping you out on the ground next to your bed.

"Momma, someone's at the door!" Scott was laying on you, giggling to himself. He thought this was hilarious.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," You groaned, carefully scooting out from under him. You figured it would be rude to make whoever was at the door wait while you got ready, so you simply tied your hair up and put on a jacket, making your way out of your bedroom. "Why are you up so early, kiddo?"

"Just woke up," He shrugged, wrapping himself in his mangy yellow blanket. It definitely needed a wash.

You couldn't figure out who would knock on someone's door at eight o'clock in the morning. How would they know if you were awake or not? And wouldn't waking someone that early end pretty badly? As you made your way to the door, wrapping your jacket around your torso, you saw a small flash of red through the window. _Oh, this guy again._

"Hello?" You pulled open the door, covering a yawn as best as you could.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." Mark was already dressed, and he looked like he'd been up for a while.

"You apologize a lot," You mumbled drowsily, leaning against the door-frame. "Did you need something?"

"I brought these," He pulled out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back, "To apologize for running into you yesterday."

"You're really dwelling on that, huh?" You opened the door a little more, inviting him inside. "Come on in, I'll go find something to put them in."

He hesitated, but after a few short moments, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "Sure...thanks, um...?"

"(Y/N.)"

"Oh, okay, thanks (Y/N)."

"Sorry for the mess, Scott hasn't picked up after himself yet." You looked around the living room. Where was he anyway? "Scott, honey?"

Mark looked almost disappointed for a second, but you couldn't place your finger on why, exactly. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Scott came running out of his bedroom, monkey and blanket in tow.

"Hello!" He shouted, bee-lining for the visitor. "My name's Scott, what's yours?" He was practically beaming, and you couldn't help but smile a little, too.

"Mark." Mark was surprised, definitely, but something about his expression showed that he didn't really mind. He seemed to be enjoying the attention, at least a little bit.

"Scott, honey, can you go pick up your toys from the living room?" You watched as your son ran off, giggling and shoving various toys into his arms.

"Nice kid." Mark leaned against the kitchen counter as you rifled through the cabinets, eventually finding a small, light blue vase. You poured a little water into it and held out your hand to him. Instead of handing the flowers to you, he did it himself, sliding the bouquet into the vase with ease. You smiled, placing it in the center of the bar - a slightly raised portion of counter behind the sink - where it seemed to fit nicely.

"He is," You agreed, smiling, "He makes raising a kid at twenty-five just a little easier than you'd expect it to be." You chuckled, trying your best to do something about the dishes in the sink.

Scott finished picking up his toys and made his way over to Mark, tugging at his shirt. "Scott-"

"No, he's alright." Mark chuckled, crouching down to meet Scott's level. "Yes?"

"Take a picture with me!" Scott was jumping now, practically ecstatic. "I want a picture with a red hair guy." He shot full-force puppy eyes at you, making you laugh.

"Alright, alright. Smile!" Mark pulled out his phone, and the two leaned in. "There. You look great." Scott giggled.

At that angle, something struck your chest like a brick. Now that the two of them were next to one another, you couldn't help but go dry in the throat. Once you got past the flaming red hair, Mark actually had features that were somewhat... _familiar._ You couldn't place your finger on it, until you looked over at Scott. They had the same fluffy hair, though Scott's was a little curlier, but it was the same color as Mark's roots. They also had the same sharp jaw line, and rounded nose. They even had the same slanted eyes, though Mark's weren't as turned up in the corners.

You felt your blood rushing, and tried your best to hide the sudden shift of mood. "Thanks for the flowers," You blurted, immediately regretting saying anything.

Mark glanced up, quirking a brow. You knew that he could tell something was off. "You're...welcome. Everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah," You smiled, hoping to put him at ease. You couldn't have him taking as much notice as you just had, and if Scott asked any questions, you wouldn't know how to answer them. "I just...um...have an appointment, soon. At ten."

Mark looked confused, but he stood up nonetheless, brushing off his pants. "Oh, wouldn't want to make you late." He grinned down at Scott, who was still beaming. Shit, they even had the same smile. "See ya later, kiddo."

Mark started making his way to the door, and you followed, already feeling bad for rushing him out so fast. As he stepped onto the porch, he looked over his shoulder at you, smiling. "See you around."

After he shut the door, you let out a large breath, rubbing your hands over your face. "Momma, you shouldn't lie. You don't have an appoit-met."

He butchered the word terribly, and it made you smile, wrapping him up in your arms. "I don't, you're right. I just lied to keep from hurting his feelings."

"How?" Scott pulled back to look at you, wrapping his legs around your hips.

"Cause secretly we're gonna go get ice cream, and he'd be sad if he couldn't come." You grinned, kissing his nose.

His eyes widened, following by a small series of excited giggles. "Really?"

"Really. How about you go pick out some clothes?" You set him down, and he immediately darted for his bedroom, practically skipping.

\----------------------------

"So, man, how'd it go?" Matt was sitting on the couch when he got home, scratching tentatively at his cat's head. Banana seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Good...I think." Mark sighed, setting his phone down on the counter. "She seemed happy about the flowers, but she rushed me out a little quickly." He shrugged. "Said she had an appointment."

"Oh, that one." Matt made a dramatic wince, scaring his cat out of his comatose state. "That's rough."

"It wasn't as bad as you think. Did you know that she has a son?"

Matt looked confused. "Isn't she your age?"

"She's twenty-five. I don't really know the circumstances, but I don't think the dad is in the picture." Mark chuckled, grabbing a box of cereal out of the pantry. "I was scared there for a second."

"Why's that?" Matt followed suit, grabbing a few bowls from the cabinet. Mark wasn't sure if Ryan was awake yet, but Matt must've known, cause he pulled out three bowls.

"When we went inside, she kept saying, 'Scott, honey.' I thought she was calling for a boyfriend or something."

Matt was grinning. "And you care...why?"

Mark was caught red-handed, and he knew it. "I mean, she's kind of cute."

"I'll say." Matt was laughing now, and Ryan was walking into the kitchen with a confused expression.

"So you did the thing?" Ryan asked, scratching at his head.

"Guys, come on. I just brought her apology flowers. It's not like I asked her out." Mark sighed, shaking his head. At least, he hadn't yet.

"Turns out the girl has a kid." Matt shot Ryan a look, who nearly choked on his coffee.

"But I thought she was your ag-"

"She's twenty five." Mark said, as he had before. He didn't understand why the kid was such a big deal. "Matthias and Amanda are only twenty seven, and she's pregnant. What's the big deal?"

"Well, her kid isn't born yet, for one." Ryan laughed. "How old is her kid, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. He looked about three or four, give or take a few months. He was a great kid, really nice." Mark grabbed his phone as Matt poured the cereal into the bowls, pulling up his photos. "Here he is. He asked me to take a picture."

This time, Ryan did choke on his coffee, and had to take a moment to fix his breathing. Matt was just staring, eyes wide and cereal frozen in his hand.

"What?"

"Mark, have you really looked at him?" Matt set the box down, and pulled the phone from Mark's hands. Ryan looked over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Just look." Ryan took the phone that time, handing it back to Mark. He glanced down at the screen, studying it for a moment. He saw what they meant almost instantly, and felt something tighten in his chest.

"Holy shit."

"He's like your twin. Minus the red hair, I mean." Ryan laughed, almost like he was trying to mask how uncomfortable he felt.

"Have any kids we don't know about?" Matt leaned back against the counter, shooting Mark a curious expression.

"No, I mean, I don't think so. I'd remember having a kid, wouldn't I?" Mark knew this couldn't be his kid, after all, this was some random girl that had just moved in, but he couldn't deny the resemblance. "That's so weird."

"Yeah, just weird. A total coincidence." Matt grabbed the milk, filling each of the bowls sufficiently. "If I were you, I'd try and get to know her a little. Maybe it's irony, maybe it's some past affair you forgot about. All I'm saying is, that's just too weird."

"I...I guess." Mark sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. This had to be a coincidence, right?


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to keep the details out of the light for long.

"Okay, honey, you have to hold the handles tightly." You smiled down at Scott, who gripped the handlebars of his Ninja Turtles training bike tightly. "Alright, now don't worry, I'm right here. Try and pedal, okay?"

"Okay, mommy." Scott pressed his feet cautiously on the pedals, but managed to push them, jolting the bike forward just a bit. "Woah."

"It's okay, baby, just be easy. Slow and steady." You pushed the back of his seat, helping him move forward steadily. The house was just a few yards behind you, and you'd promised him that the two of you would go to the end of the street and back. As you went along, towards the inner corner of the neighborhood, you realized that the houses started getting much bigger and nicer looking. It was almost intimidating.

"Momma, let go for a second!" Scott was giggling, and you couldn't help but oblige, easing your hands off of the seat.

He shot forward, making your breath catch for a second, but he seemed to be maintaining his balance. Given, his back wheel was accompanied by two large training wheels, but it wasn't a foolproof design. He looked happy, though, so you just followed carefully behind him. Soon enough, though, he was pedaling really fast, and you had to jog just to keep up.

"Scott, honey, slow down a little. You're going to lose your balance!" He didn't seem to hear you, though, cause he sped up. "Scott, you're gonna fa-"

He hit a rock in the road and screamed, careening to the side. Luckily, he was close to the curb, and what would've scraped across the road hit the grass instead. His left leg wasn't so lucky, though, and you winced as it hit the curb. Almost immediately, he started crying, and you quickly ran over to him, trying to gauge how hurt he was. You grabbed him gently, setting him in your lap, and sat down on the curb.

"Oh, honey," You cooed, lifting his leg as softly as you could. You examined his calf, which was already bleeding and covered in dirt and gravel. "I'm sorry."

He buried his face in your chest, and you tried your best to sit him comfortably. "Let's say we go back to the house, and then I can-"

"Everything okay?" You heard a familiar voice behind you, and turned just in time to see Mark come strolling down the driveway. You figured that this must've been his house.

"Scott fell off his bike." You carefully adjusted the tot so that he was swaddling your hip and stood, motioning to the scraps on his calf.

"Oo, road burn." Mark winced, shooting the kid a sympathetic glance. "I have some first aid stuff inside, if you need it. It'd be quicker than walking all the way back to your house."

You almost turned him down, but Scott was in pain, and your son always came before your own second thoughts. "Sure, thank you." You murmured, following him up the driveway and into the house. It was definitely a nice house, nicer than yours, and much larger. Inside was even more spacious, and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about your own dwelling. Surely he couldn't afford to live here by himself. What did this guy do for a living?

Just as your thoughts bloomed, another guy came around the corner, carrying a small cat in his arms. It was one of the boys that had been with Mark yesterday, and he was wearing...a popcorn costume? Scott sniffled, allowing a few stuffy laughs to escape his lips.

"Oh...hello. I'm Matt, Mark's roommate. You must be (Y/N)." He offered you a hand, and you readjusted Scott so that you could shake it. "Sorry, I was filming a video with Ryan."

As he said so, another guy came around the corner. It was the other one from yesterday, and you assumed that this was 'Ryan.' He waved at you and offered a friendly smile, but you couldn't help but notice how on edge the two seemed. Mark seemed to notice, too, when he came back with the first aid.

"Scott fell off of his bike," He explained, shooting the two of them a look that you couldn't quite read. "I offered to help clean him up."

"Ah, alright," Matt murmured, setting the cat down on the couch, "Well we'll be out back."

You hardly had time to say, "Nice to meet you," before the two of them had disappeared. You heard a door open, and as it shut, a set of thunderous steps came trotting down the hallway. A golden retriever bounded into sight, panting and _very_ happy to see you.

"This is Chica," Mark said, grinning. He scratched at her head, but her attention was on you and your son. She bounded over, only managing to contain her excitement when Mark ordered her to sit. She did so, but her tail was still wagging so fast that it was sweeping dust off of the floor. "Here," he offered you the first aid kit, "There are bandages and sterile wipes. I also have some antibiotic ointment in there."

"Wow, you're prepared." You sat Scott down at the dining room table and lifted his leg, grabbing a sterile wipe and gently brushing all of the dirt and gravel off. Then, you took a second one and went about making sure the scrape was clean and blood-free. Luckily, he'd stopped bleeding, so the process was an easy one. After that, you took out the antibiotic ointment, and rubbed a thin layer over the wound. Scott seemed to be expecting it to sting, so he let out a breath of relief when it didn't. You placed a big bandage over the scrape and stood him up, kissing him on both cheeks. "There, sweetie. All better."

As he made his way towards the dog, very excited to see her, you went about putting everything back into the box. "Here you go," You said as you handed Mark the kit. He took it with a smile, and went to put it away. When he returned, he had another box. "What's in that one?"

"Candy." He flashed a wicked grin and pulled off the lid, holding it out to Scott. "Oh, he had ice cream already, he really shouldn't-"

"Pleeeeeeeease, mommy?" Scott begged, sticking out his bottom lip. "I'll be good, I promise!"

"Oh, alright." You couldn't resist that face, and the giggle your permission elicited was well worth it. He picked out a fun-size Milky Way and quickly unwrapped it, shoving it into his mouth. Mark put the box away above the fridge.

"So, how'd the appointment this morning go?" His question caught you off guard, and you quickly pulled out a response.

"Oh, good. Everything's good." You smiled, hoping he wouldn't push any further. Scott could very well tell your secret any second. "Nothing wrong."

"We got ice cream!" Scott shouted, beaming. Immediately, he realized his mistake and put his hands over his mouth, shooting you an apologetic look. "Sorry mommy."

Mark's expression changed, somewhere between curious and confused.

You grit your teeth, trying to maintain your smile, "Scott means-"

"Mommy said to keep it a secret, cause she didn't want to hurt your feelings for not inviting you along." Scott whispered, hugging Chica's torso.

Mark simply smiled, letting out a chuckle. You couldn't tell if he was offended, or he actually bought into it. "That's fair. It's not good to hurt people's feelings." He was looking at you in a way that made your breath catch. _Did_ he actually buy it?

"Hey Scott, I think Chica has to use the bathroom. Want to take her into the backyard?" Mark asked, looking at you. "If that's okay."

"Yeah, that's, um...that's fine." You nodded your approval to your son, who cheerfully skipped towards the backyard, dog hot on his heels.

"Want to see the picture I took this morning?" Mark said suddenly, and you nodded, not sure what he was getting at. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through screens until he came to the picture, and he held it out to you.

You didn't know what you expected. The resemblance that you'd seen that morning was definitely there, so plain that even he had surely noticed. "That's a good one. He looks really happy," You said quietly, hoping he wouldn't say anything about it.

"He just seems like a happy kid," Mark said, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Can I ask you something?"

You felt your heart lurch to your throat, and you nodded, leaning against his counter. "Yeah?"

He paused for a second, and you though your heart was going to explode. "What made you move to LA?"

You hesitated, slightly caught off guard. "Oh, um...I need a change. I was tired of the same streets and faces. Plus, uh, people didn't really approve of my life choices." You finished the last part a bit softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He looked down at his shoes. "Where are you from?"

That was one of those questions that you hoped he would brush off and forget about later. If your sneaking suspicion was correct, - of which you felt bittersweet about - you knew that the answer to this question could mean a lot. "Tipp City, Ohio. It's an hour outside of Cincinnati."

He nodded, slowly. "That's ironic. I'm from Cincinnati."

"No way," You said as nonchalantly as you could, but your voice wavered. "How...neat."

"Yeah, neat." His voice was slightly troubled, and you couldn't help but think that he knew. Of course he knew, it was plain. "Is Scott's dad from Tipp City, too?"

You were going to lose it. "He's, um...well, I'm not really sure. He's not in the picture." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. "That sounds bad, doesn't it? I don't even know who my kid's dad is."

"So I'm guessing that's the 'life choice' that no one seems to approve of?" His inquiry was correct, so you nodded, and he displayed a small smile. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"I thought I'd made a huge one, at first," You admit quietly, crossing your arms. "I thought I'd ruined my life, and I had to do it all on my own, which was a scary thought back then. I didn't think I'd be able to do it."

"And now?" He was watching you intently, resting his weight against the back of the couch.

"Well, I'm doing pretty okay, and Scott's such a great kid. I don't know how I ever thought that he was a mistake." You smiled down at your feet, chest flooding with warmth. "He's my reason to get up in the morning."

"That's sweet," Mark said, smiling as well. There was a twinkle in his eye that you couldn't identify. "Have you ever tried to contact the guy?"

"I tried, once, but I don't even remember his name. 'Some guy from a bar,' wasn't exactly an identifiable description."

Mark nearly choked. "You met him in a bar?"

"Oh, god, that sounds worse out loud." You closed your eyes, shaking your head. "Yeah, a bar. My friends took me to Cincinnati for my twenty first birthday."

He looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. "That's a fun birthday gift." His voice was strained.

"Mark?"

"Give me a second, I'll be right back." He disappeared into the hallway, leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it in your head, your fingers, even your legs. He knew, oh god, he knew.

In truth, you weren't sure why you were freaking out so much. How could it possibly be that the father of your kid would end up living on the same street in a town with millions of people, days away from the town where the two of you met? Surely this was all just coincidence, right?

When Mark came back, he looked as if he was going to be sick. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm...," He trailed off, "Tell me something."

"O...okay." You froze, worried what he might ask next.

"When is your birthday?"

"Oh, it's June 28th." That was an odd question. Then again, that was the day you'd gone out with Courtney and the others, so maybe he was trying to do math.

He looked like he was going to throw up. "Oh god." He murmured, pouring himself a glass of water in the kitchen.

"What? What's wrong?"

"That's my birthday, too." He paused, staring down into the sink. Suddenly he looked up at you. "On June 28th of 2012, I was living in an apartment in downtown Cincinnati, and I went to a bar to celebrate my own birthday. I was having a rough night."

You, too, felt like you were going to vomit. Closing your eyes, you had to ask, "Did you take someone home?"

"I did." He said quietly, sighing, and ran his hands through his hair. "It was her birthday too."

Well, this was happening. "Mark," you murmured, unsure of how to word this. "Scott is four years old."

"Fuck." The two of you stared at each other, and you could tell that he was just as scared as you were. He lacked any trace of color in his face, and his eyes looked worried. "That means..."

"Well, we can't know for sure." You sighed, resting your forehead on the counter. "The pieces fit a little too perfectly to be coincidence, don't you think?"

"Answer one more question."

"Okay."

He looked back down at his glass, and he looked almost...hurt? "After your...night, what happened? The next morning?"

You licked your lips, trying to hide your embarrassment. You still felt bad about this one. "Well, I woke up with such a bad hangover that I felt like I'd been shot in the head. I didn't have any clothes on, and some guy I'd never seen before was sleeping on me. I panicked, okay? I didn't know what to do, so I left." You sighed. "It was rude, I know, but I left a note. It said-"

"I'm sorry, have a good day." Mark was quiet for a second, and you felt the pit of your stomach drop.

"So it was you." You murmured, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"It was me."

"Well shit."

"I know."

 


	5. Getting To Know You

You hadn't seen him in a week. Given, it wasn't that big of a deal, and you could understand why, but you'd have thought that he'd at least try to see Scott. But no, there was nothing. No calls, no house visits, not even a wave as he drove past your driveway. Utter silence, almost too eerie for your liking.

But of course, as things usually went, your doubts were short-lived. You were making Scott his favorite - PB&J - for lunch when you heard a knock on the door. Setting the sandwich in front of him, you quickly answered, hoping selfishly that it might be him.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, and slightly strained. Boy, did he look rough. His hair was disheveled, more so than it usually seemed to, and he was wearing pajama pants. He also sported a red flannel, but it was buttoned in the wrong place at the bottom, and the right collar wasn't folded properly.

"Hi." You said awkwardly, feeling the weight of your stomach.

"I came to, uh...to talk."

"Oh, sure. Come on in." You held the door open for him, trying your best to be friendly, even though you wanted to rip your hair out. It wasn't even that you were upset, it was just that the overwhelming awkwardness that had befallen the two of you was suffocating. "Scott, honey, why don't you take your sandwich up to my room and watch TV?"

Scott obliged quietly, probably trying not to push his luck. This wasn't something that you let him do very often, namely because he was such a messy eater. "No crumbs on the bed, got it?"

"Okay momma."

You waited until he had disappeared up the steps to talk, making your way into the kitchen in a poor attempt to dodge any oncoming questions. "So...what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I mean, I guess there's a lot we need to talk about." Mark cleared his throat, and refused to look up from his shoes.

"I guess there is." You poured yourself a glass of water, and then another, for him. Placing it in front of him, you also cleared your throat, which caught his attention. "So, I guess we should sum it up. Start from there."

He sighed, rubbing at his face. He was wearing his glasses today, and they briefly got in his way. "Well, a week ago I found out that I'm the father of a four year old that just moved in down the street. I met his mom four years ago at a bar, and had a brief one-night-stand with her afterwards, and then never heard about it again. That is, until now, because they live on my block, and the kid looks exactly like me." He took a breath, clearly trying to maintain his calm demeanor. "Now, I'm not entirely sure what to do."

You motioned for him to join you on the couch, and wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders. "What do you want to do?"

"Like I said, I don't know. I want to be there for him, he's my kid." Mark put his head in his hands. "It just doesn't feel real. I don't feel like I'm awake right now. It hasn't completely sunk in yet." He glanced up at you. "And then there's the kid's mother, a very kind and pretty woman, but I have no idea who she is." He seemed to be at a loss for words. "I...don't know anything about you."

"Then maybe that's a starting point," You offered gently, "Instead of worrying how you're going to get into your son's life, why don't you worry about getting to know your son?"

Mark mulled it over for a second, but eventually gave in to a small smile and a nod. "That's fair. But you, too. I want to get to know you."

Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn't tell if he meant romantically, or maybe just to have an idea of who his son's mom was? Of course he couldn't mean romantically, he didn't have any idea who you were.

"Well, then let's work on that. Ask me anything." You curled up on the corner of the couch, mug grasped firmly between your fingers.

"Hmm..." He leaned back against the couch, studying you, as if a question would appear on your forehead. "Tell me about your family."

"Well," You tried your best to come up with the best way to describe the bunch of them. "They live back in Tipp City, Ohio. My mom's a chiropractor, and owns a small business on Main Street. My dad's an architect, but he does really big projects. He's been to a lot of countries, they love his work. He's my best friend, really. My mom, too. They're both great. They really helped me out when Scott first came along." You smiled, thinking of how supportive they'd been. "I also have an older brother, Alec. He's a total nerd, but he loves what he does. He designs video games. And my sister, Gracie, she's a dancer. She's going to school for it in New York, on a full ride. I don't think she actually has a spine."

"Wow, artsy family." He chuckled, quirking a brow. "And you? What do you do?"

"Oh, I used to act, back in college. I did a bit of Broadway when I was finishing school, nothing huge, but I had to quit when the baby came along. Scott demands a lot of time." You laughed softly. "Now I just do graphic design, so I can work from home. It pays well enough. What about you?"

"My family or my job?"

You smiled. "Both."

"Well, I was born in Oahu, Hawaii. My mom is from Korea, and my dad's German. He met her while he was in the military and brought her back. We moved to Cincinnati when I was young, with my older brother, Tom. I was raised there, and went to college there. My dad died while I was seventeen, and I hit a really rough patch. I started going to school for engineering, but it didn't feel right. I disconnected from my family, which was hard. They're all such great people." He chewed his lip, as if unsure of what he was about to say. "After a while, I dropped out of college to do...um, YouTube. I make videos, gaming videos. Markiplier, that's my name."

"That's your job?" You asked, incredulous.

He seemed almost relieved. "Yeah, I have almost thirteen million subscribers. It pays well, and I love it. You've never heard of me?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Wow, when you ask like that it almost sounds like you have an ego." When his expression changed, you swatted his leg, grinning. "I'm just kidding. That's really great, doing what you love. I think my brother watches your videos, actually."

"Oh, really? The game designer, right?" You nodded. "What company does he work for?"

"Naughty Dog, I think is the name of it. He loves it there."

"I bet. The Last of Us was great, did he work on that one?"

"I'll have to ask." You grinned to yourself, taking a sip from your mug. "But the YouTube thing? Amazing that it worked out well, I wouldn't have had the courage to drop out for something so hit or miss."

"Well, as I always say, I could've-"

"Been an engineer." You grinned, surprised that you remembered.

"How did you know I'd say that?"

"I've heard you say it before." You winked. "I imagine that was before the YouTube thing took off."

"Fair enough." Mark chuckled. "Let's see, next question...What is your favorite pastime?" He leaned back against the couch, propping his arms on the edges of his legs, eyes completely focused on you.

"Hmm...I like to draw, sometimes. Nothing too serious, at least, not anymore. I took a few art classes in college, but realism isn't really my cup of tea. I like to doodle cartoon style, mostly. Besides, shading's a bastard, and at least with cartoons, you don't really have to worry about-" You cut yourself off, realizing that you were rambling.

Mark chuckled, setting his own mug down on the coffee table. "It's okay, keep going."

You smiled sheepishly. "Well, as I said earlier, I used to act. I'm just artsy, I guess." You laughed, trying to mask the fact that you sounded like one of those girls that lived and breathed everything art, aka "art trash." "What do you like to do?"

"Play video games, mostly." He chuckled again, crossing his arms. "I've gotten into rock climbing lately, so that I don't have to work out. I mean, it's fun, but also just a nice alternative."

"Hm, I'd probably fall." You grinned. "I'm a bit of a klutz."

"I could've guessed that."

As you started to fire a comeback, you heard Scott's voice from the hallway. "Momma?" He was rubbing his eyes with one hand, and cradling his monkey and blanket in the other.

"Yes, honey?" You couldn't help but laugh at how tousled his hair was. Come to think of it, it looked almost as rough as Mark's did.

He immediately made his way over, setting his blanket down and pulling himself up into your lap. He lay his head against your chest, looking up at you with wide eyes. "I don't feel good."

You placed your hand against his forehead, leaving it there for a second. "I don't think you have a fever, sweetheart. What hurts?"

"My head," He mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder.

You adjusted him so that he was laying with his head in your lap, feet near Mark. "Here, let me see if I can help, okay?" He didn't say anything, just nodded. You gently began to rub at his head, hoping that you could massage away his headache. He seemed to enjoy it, so you let it be, stroking his cheek with your other hand. When you looked up, Mark was staring at your with a giant grin on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," He murmured, smiling down at his hands. "You're just so good with him."

"I hope so," You laughed quietly. "You aren't so bad yourself."

"Hey, momma?" Scott mumbled, squinting at you through one eye. "Can Mark come with us next time we get ice cream?"

His question caught you off guard, but you figured it wouldn't hurt. "Yes, honey, he can come next time."

Mark seemed to like that answer, because he beamed, and it was unbelievably adorable. _Where did that thought came from?_ You frowned to yourself, unsure of just where that train was going.

"Can we get ice cream today?" Scott begged, jutting out his bottom lip. You started to object, but when you looked up, Mark was jutting out his lip too.

"Seriously? My god, you look like twins." You laughed, shaking your head, but you couldn't mask the smile. "Fine, we'll go in a bit. If you're free."

Mark was already standing, shoving his keys into his pocket. "In fact, I have the day off. I got all of my recording done yesterday."

"Recording?" He started to reply, "Oh, right, the YouTube thing."

Mark grinned. "Yeah, the YouTube thing. I'm gonna go make myself presentable. See you in...say, an hour? I'll drive."

"Alright, alright." You carefully moved Scott out of your lap, placing a pillow under his head. "I'll get him ready, then, I guess."

"See you around." Mark chuckled, letting himself out. Scott was ecstatic, and by the way he was acting, you'd say he'd never had a headache at all.

"Go on then, go get your brush, kiddo." He raced off, leaving you by yourself. When you went to put away your mug, you noticed the vase on the counter, full of beautiful flowers that were, somehow, still alive. "Hmm." You smiled to yourself, leaning just far enough that you could smell them. Suddenly, you chuckled. "He could've been an engineer.


	6. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe going public right off the bat wasn't the best plan...

"What do you mean you don't like chocolate?" Mark just looked offended, sporting the whole, 'hand-over-my-heart-cause-I'm-wounded' sort of idea.

"I don't mean I don't like _chocolate,_ I'm just not the biggest fan of traditional chocolate ice cream." You laughed, not entirely sure why it was _that_ big of a deal. "I like it blended with other flavors...like chocolate and peanut butter, or chocolate oreo."

"That's just disgraceful." Mark adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, scowling at you, but you could tell that he was trying not to smile.

Scott, however, thought the entire exchange was hilarious. You'd sent him to pick out a table while he waited, which he'd done successfully, and you noticed that he was erupting into fits of giggles as the two of you approached. Luckily, the table he'd selected was in the back corner of the shop, so he wasn't disturbing anyone with his obtrusive behavior.

"What's so funny?" You took a bite of your ice cream - moose tracks. How could someone _not_ like moose tracks? Courtney, you remembered, hated it, and always opted for blueberry swirl.

"Momma, you're gonna get cooties." Scott was laughing away, somehow managing to have _already_ smeared ice cream on his face.

You wiped at it with a napkin, shooting him a curious look. "Why's that?" Now Mark was laughing, too, leaving you oddly confused. You turned to him, quirking a brow, but he acted as though he'd never cracked a smile.

"Cause you have a boyfriend." Scott beamed, and you heard the abrupt, guttural sound as Mark's ice cream lodged itself in his throat, effectively silencing his chuckles. You'd nearly choked yourself - who did he think was your boyfriend?

"Do I?" You asked, smiling softly. You took his cone, wrapping a napkin around the base, and quickly returned it to his possessive little hands. "Who's my boyfriend?"

Mark also looked curious, and when Scott replied, "Mark," he choked again.

You patted his back like you would a child, laughing to yourself. "Alright there?"

"Yeah," He wheezed, "Totally great."

"Scott, sweetie," You rubbed his helmet full of thick black locks, trying your best not to grin, "Mark isn't my boyfriend. How do you even know what that is?"

"Because of grandma!" He took a bite from his cone, clearly appreciative of the treat. "She told me that sometimes you like to talk to boys, and maybe we were moving because of a boy."

"Grandma told you-"

"Yeah momma! She said that I was supposed to tell her if I saw you talking to a boy a lot, cause that means that you have a boyfriend and aren't telling her." He grinned, clearly proud of himself.

Mark was grinning now too, amused at your embarrassment. "So you like to talk to boys, huh?"

"Oh my god," You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "He was the _babysitter,_ not to mention, _sixteen years old."_

"You cougar." Mark winked, his grin spreading even further.

"My momma's not a cat, Mark." Scott rolled his eyes in a way that made you chuckle. "He's so silly, mommy."

"He is silly, isn't he?" You leaned back, enjoying the way that Mark's facial expression shifted. He looked down at Scott, putting his hand across his heart again, and jutted out his bottom lip.

"Scott, you wound me."

"What does wound mean, momma?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how horribly that one had backfired. "Hurt, baby. It means hurt."

"Ooohhh." Scott nodded, struggling to collect the last bits of ice cream out of his cone. He glanced at Mark, almost looking...concerned? "Do you need a band-aid, Mark? Momma keeps them in her purse."

You started to object, but Scott's dirty fingers had already reached into the pocket on the side, pulling out a colorful Ninja Turtles band-aid. You couldn't stop him now, this was just too cute. He pulled the tabs off of the sides and stuck the band-aid around one of Mark's fingers, before leaning forward and kissing it.

"There, all better, right momma?" Scott seemed so proud of himself, and Mark was just utterly shocked.

You felt something swell in your heart. "Right, sweetie."

Mark didn't say anything, but the raw emotion behind his smile did what words couldn't. He looked so happy. Scott was also smiling, and you couldn't help but study how similar they looked. It was so striking, it surprised you every time.

You went to take another bite from your ice cream when Scott grabbed your arm. "I have to go to the bathroom," He whispered.

"Oh, um-"

"I can take him." Mark said softly, his smile still playing at his lips. Scott liked that idea very much, evident in the way he grabbed Mark's hand and tugged him towards the hallway.

You sat there, smiling to yourself. You were glad that Scott seemed to be taking to Mark, and and visa-versa. You still weren't entirely sure how you were going to tell Scott, but at least you had time to figure that out. If you could keep his boyfriend assumptions under control, perhaps things would flow without too much drama or confusion. Besides, Scott seemed to be-

"Excuse me." You looked up, attention immediately caught by a teenage girl. She was clutching the straps of a small backpack, shaped like some little box with a face on it. Her hair was a pale pink color, and her wrists were littered with bracelets. Her black t-shirt said 'Starbomb' in big, round letters.

"Yes?" You smiled, trying to sound as friendly as possible. You knew that you could have a serious case of resting-bitch-face sometimes, so you tried to fight it every time you encountered someone.

"That guy that went into the bathroom..." She murmured, almost mumbling under her breath. It was hard to hear her. "Is his name Mark?"

You were confused. "It is, why do you ask?"

She seemed as though her heart was in her throat, her eyes wide and lips parted as if she was going to say something. "Oh my god," She whispered, suddenly giddy. "Oh my god, it's him!" Her expression abruptly changed, and she narrowed her eyes at you, almost accusingly. "Who was that little boy?"

"Oh, that's my son," You sounded out the words slowly, almost hesitant to tell her anything. She was acting very odd.

"Oh, okay." She let out a huge breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. "So who are you, then?"

"Who am I?" Why was she asking so many questions?

"Like, to Mark. Who are you?" _Well, shit, that was forward._

"Oh, just a friend." You kind of wanted her to go away, but you felt bad for thinking that. As you opened your mouth to say something else, you heard Mark's voice from down the hallway, and she disappeared from sight. Was she...running? You followed her with your eyes, watching as she rejoined a large group of girls out in the parking lot. They were all excited about something.

"All set," Mark said as he sat back down at the table, Scott just behind him.

"Momma, Mark took his band-aid off." Scott was pouting.

"You healed my boo-boo." Mark retorted, grinning down at him. Scott's pout utterly failed, and soon, he gave into a grin as well. Mark shifted his gaze to you, grin settling into the soft ghost of a smile. "Ready to head out?"

"I sure am." You stood, pulling your purse over your shoulder, and threw the collective trash away. Scott was running ahead, already out the door, and you felt your heart skip a beat. "Scott, baby, don't run into the road!"

Mark was way ahead of you, and he snatched the tot up just as a car pulled around the corner, instinctively pulling him into a protective cradle across his chest. You released the breath you'd been holding, placing a thankful hand on Mark's arm.

"Scott, honey, you can't just run away like that." You breathed, crossing the street as soon as it was clear. The parking lot was a few yards from the shop, and cars were constantly moving through the alleyways between rows.

"Sorry, mommy," Scott turned so that he was laying his head on Mark's shoulder, one arm wrapped around Mark's arm, and the other tucked between him and Mark's chest. Mark lifted him momentarily in order to slide him into his car seat, a giant grin on his face.

Despite the fact that your heartbeat was racing, you couldn't help but feel a radiating warmth flow through your chest. As Mark pulled out of the parking space, you noticed that group of girls, and it felt almost like they were watching. A few had their phones out. Were they... _taking pictures_ of you? No, they couldn't be. They must've been taking selfies...right?

"You okay?" Mark asked, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"Yeah, it's just...," You passed them on Mark's side, and a few of them started smiling and pointing. Mark followed your gaze, and a small smile crossed his lips.

"That girl has a Tiny Box Tim backpack!" He said, chuckling. "I want one of those."

"Tiny Box Tim?" What the hell did that mean?

"It's something to do with my channel. A character from a game."

"Oh." Now some of the girls looked mad. "It's cute."

"He's a little biscuit." Mark grinned as he entered the lane, checking on the tired kid in the backseat. "He passed out fast."

You grinned too. "He does that. Makes for easy transportation."

"Just like his dad." Mark looked at you in a way that made you feel both awkward and happy. You weren't entirely sure where to go from here, but you knew that you wanted to see him again.

\------------------------

**MARK'S POV  
**

Scott had been passed out by the time he'd made it back to their house, and he'd watched with a smile as (Y/N) pulled him from the car seat, cuddling him against her chest. It was a cute look, he had to admit. He'd even walked her to the door, and she'd invited him inside. Things were running so smoothly, someone might have thought that they'd been friends for years. Mark knew that they had only known each other for a few weeks, but every time he came over, he just wanted to stay longer. He felt like he could talk to her for hours - she always had something interesting to say, and even when she said nothing, he was was always listening. Intently, like he was scared to miss a single sound that escaped her lips.

"Coffee?" She asked as she returned from tucking Scott in.

He chuckled quietly, raising an eyebrow at him. "After we just had coffee?"

"You betcha." She grinned, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Mark was unable to speak for a second. "You alright?"

"I'm great," He murmured, maneuvering himself into one of the bar stools. "I guess I'll have a cup then."

"Good answer." She placed the grounds into a filter in the top of the coffee maker and pressed the button, leaning back on the counter as she waited. "So, have fun today?"

"Yeah, it was nice, to spend time with you guys." Mark felt like he was clamming up, but he didn't know why. Something about today had just clicked in him, and he could hardly stand to be around (Y/N) without his heart skipping a few beats. "Scott nearly melted my heart there a few times."

"He's a sweet kid." She was smiling proudly, and he couldn't help but join in. He _had_ helped make that, technically. Well, not technically, literally.

"He really is. And he likes Ninja Turtles, so it's a win-win." Mark pulled out his phone, noticing that he had a few texts. There were six, three of which were from Matt, two from Ryan, and one from Wade. All of them were saying to check his twitter as soon as he could. Confused, Mark pulled open the app, scrolling intently through his feed.

"Is something wrong?" She leaned her elbows on the bar in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed in a concerned manner.

"Not that I know of. I just got a bunch of texts saying to check my twitter, but I don't see any-" Suddenly, he felt the air leave his throat. As he went a little deeper into posts from earlier in the hour, he began to see a few interesting pictures. One was of him sitting at the table in the ice cream shop, laughing as Scott put on his band-aid, and (Y/N) looked on with an amused expression. Then it was her by herself, gazing out the window at something. The last couple were of the three of them in his car, pulling out of the parking lot. All of the captions seemed as though they'd been written by confused fans, saying things like, "Does Mark have a new gf?" and "Tell me that kid does not look exactly like him." There were even a few that he wouldn't show her, saying things like, "New gf apparently. He could do better."

"What is it, Mark?" She was waiting for him to answer her, but he wasn't sure how to put this. When he'd seen them, he hadn't thought anything of the group standing outside of the ice cream shop, but now that he thought about it, it made since that they'd been the ones to take the pictures.

"Look," He made sure to show one of the pictures without a hurtful caption, of the three of them sitting at the table. It said in big bold letters, 'WHAT THE FUCK. NEW GF ?????????? WHO IS THE KID"

(Y/N) looked confused, her lips drawing together in a frown. "They were taking pictures of us?" She said quietly, and Mark desperately wanted to apologize. This was his fault - he should've of known better than to go strolling into town with a woman and his son in tow. Not that he didn't want people to know about her, but Mark figured he'd have more time to actually know what was going on himself before he had to worry about fans.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, sighing. "This is my fault."

But she just laughed it off, shaking her head. "I mean, it's not like they caught us smoking pot or something." She grabbed two mugs for the coffee, and Mark just watched her with his eyebrows raised. She thought it was funny?

"You're not upset?" He asked, incredulous.

"No, you doofus." She laughed, pouring him a mug. "It's just a picture. I just didn't realize how famous you actually are."

Mark panicked. He didn't want her to think of him like some big star, or see him any differently because he had a few fans follow him around sometimes. As far as this conversation was going, though, she didn't seem to be very bothered. Or different, in any way.  "I'm really not that famous."

"Internet famous is still famous." She handed him the mug, taking a sip from her own. At that angle, he could only tell that she was smiling by the way her eyes crinkled around the edges, just above the crest of the cup. "Besides, didn't you tell me earlier that you were on the Jimmy Kimmel show? That's pretty big."

"They have kids that can name all of the presidents on the Jimmy Kimmel show." Mark chuckled, setting his mug down on the counter. "But I'm glad you're not upset."

"Let's face it," She said, "I probably look good in every one of those photos." She winked, making him laugh even more.

Suddenly, Mark felt the urge to wrap her in his arms, but he feared that it would be too forward. He couldn't help it - he felt like a giddy teenager again, being a band nerd with a crush on some pretty art kid, or maybe she'd have been in theatre? "Hey," he said, "What clique were you a part of in highschool?"

She tilted her head curiously, but answered him with a smile. "Art kid," She murmured, confirming his suspicions. "Well, more than that, I guess. All of the arts - photography, art, theatre. I even dabbed in a bit of band." Suddenly, she grinned. "First chair clarinet, right here."

"I'll tell you something," Mark finally gathered himself enough to stand up, grabbing her hands and pulling her into his chest. Surprisingly, she hugged him back, laying her head gently on his shoulder. "You're the prettiest art geek I know."

She just laughed, and it tickled his skin through his t-shirt. "You'd regret saying that if you saw my yearbook photos." Despite her joke, Mark had the sneaking suspicion that he'd have felt the same way then. It was a warm feeling, one he hoped to hold on to.


	7. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Mark discuss your terms, and make plans for the future.

**MARKS POV**

She'd fallen asleep on the couch. He didn't want to wake her out of fear that she'd be upset with him, so he took a throw blanket and covered her. The leather couch wasn't always the warmest, and he'd hate for her to get cold. Scott was down the street at her neighbor's house, an elderly couple that spoiled him and always offered to babysit. After she'd taken him there, she'd come over, so that they could continue catching up while Ryan and Matt were out with friends.

Mark sat down at the end of the couch, a small smile crossing his face. She was wearing his jacket, which he'd offered while they had been sitting on the porch. The wind had picked up, and even though she refused to admit it, he'd known that she was cold. He liked the way it bunched around her arms and hung well past her waist. It was obviously too large for her, but it looked comfortable on her, easy. Her face was so peaceful, too. Mark had never seen someone look so care-free.

"Hey, Mark?" She asked suddenly, lifting her head just enough to look for him over the back of the couch. So she hadn't been asleep, then.

"Yeah?" His voice caught her attention, and her soft eyes groggily rolled over to where he sat.

"Why is your couch so comfortable?" She laughed softly, using her arms to prop herself up against the pillows. Her hair had somehow managed to escape the ponytail she'd put it in, and now she had strands sticking out here and there, particularly on top. She seemed to notice you staring, because she used her hands to comb her hair back and tuck the front strands behind her ears. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"It's alright," Mark said quietly, leaning one arm across the back of the couch. "I made food, while you slept. I figured you would be hungry."

"You didn't have to do that." She grinned at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He liked how easy this felt, as if she belonged on his couch, in his jacket, in his house. Nothing about her coming over was awkward, and he didn't feel pressured to keep her interested enough to stay, or make a move to prove his own interest. They just felt like friends. Really, really good friends. Then again, friends didn't make his breath catch like she did. Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'll do the dishes."

"(Y/N), you don't need to-"

"But I'm going to." She laughed, already on her feet, and headed towards the dining room. "How's your feed?"

Mark didn't quite understand the question. "My what?"

"Twitter, your feed. Has it calmed down since last week?"

He followed her to the dining room table, grabbing two glasses of water from the cabinet on the way. Mark pulled out his phone when he took his seat, scrolling through his feed. "Yeah, a bit. I think it's freaking them out that I haven't said anything yet." He only saw a few retweets of the picture set, which was promising, because last week it had been every other post.

"Are you going to say something?" She was looking down at her plate with a pleasant expression. "Chicken Alfredo?"

"I do believe that last time we took Scott out to dinner, you said, and I quote, 'I would kill a man for some good chicken alfredo.'" He chuckled, putting his phone away. He didn't want to be rude, and besides, she was more interesting anyway. Mark considered her question for a second, taking a bite from his plate. He had to admit, he'd done well. "I mean, I'm going to have to, eventually. Scott's my son, and I want him - _and_ his mother - in my life, which includes my work."

The way she smiled at that made his stomach drop. "And what if your fans don't like it?"

He chuckled, trying to mask the fact that he was a bit nervous, himself. He didn't care if they didn't like (Y/N) and Scott, but it would be _so_ much easier if they did. "Then they can stop watching my channel, I guess." Mark had a sudden idea. "But I don't want to do it in a video. I'm not going to use click-bait and draw unnecessary attention by posting some video titled, 'My son and girlfriend.'"

(Y/N) was looking at him oddly, and it wasn't until he realized what he'd said that he understood why. He'd just called her his girlfriend on accident, and the word had slipped from his lips sooner than he'd been able to think about it. He could only hope that she wouldn't be angry with him.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She asked, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

"I'm sorry," He murmured, "That was a bit forward."

"I think we're past the point of 'forward'," She chuckled, "You're the father of my son."

"You...have a point." Mark looked up from his plate, and she was already staring at him, curiously. "Have you decided how you're going to tell Scott?"

"I don't...no." She shook her head, setting her fork down. "I just don't know how you tell a four year old something like that. I don't think he'd be upset, don't get me wrong, I just don't know how answer all of the questions he's bound to ask." She looked down, chewing on her lip. "I do plan to, I promise, I'm just not sure when."

Mark felt his heart sink a little. He wanted her to tell him now, but he knew that that was pushy, and just his own cares being put above the child's sensitivity. "Maybe we could do it together." He said, trying to mask the hint of raw emotion in his voice.

She smiled, raising her gaze to his. "I'd like that." (Y/N) lay her hand on the table, and he placed his over it, thumb stroking the backs of her knuckles. "How about this weekend? We could plan something to do, as a family, and tell him then." She was grinning now, and Mark found himself unable to hide a smile, as well.

"I have a convention this weekend," He murmured, but her smile didn't fall.

"Sooner, then. Thursday, we could all have dinner at my house, and then go get ice cream again."

"I'm going to weigh three hundred pounds," Mark groaned, but his smile broke through the expression. "Sounds like a plan, Stan."

"You're such a dork." She grabbed his empty plate, as well as her own, and headed for the sink. Mark followed after her, leaning his weight against the counter next to the dishwasher.

"A dork with a proposition." He grinned, only hoping that she would accept. "If we're telling Scott on Thursday, then how about the two of you _accompany_ me to my convention. That way, I don't have to make a video, and the fans can ask as many questions as they want."

She was quiet for a second, but he could tell by the twinkle in her eye what her response was. "Alright, proposition accepted."

"Good, I'll secure you a VIP pass, then," He studied her for a second, enjoying the way she giggled when she caught him looking. "Do you want to, (Y/N)?"

"I already said yes, Mark." She was laughing, but she stopped when she noticed him shake his head. "Want to what?" She looked up from the dishes, her hands covered in soap.

Mark smiled softly. "Be my girlfriend. Like the cliche title, without the video aspect."

She froze for a second, but the way the words set in was visible on her face. Her eyes brightened, and her smile grew. "I don't know, it's just not the same without a click-bait video."

"I knew you were just in it for the fame." He laughed, taking the plates she set on the counter and putting them away. "Do you, though?"

(Y/N) shouldered him, wiping a bit of soap on his arm. "Of course I do, dork. I want a whole family." She grinned, hesitant, but in one bold motion, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "The only person that can complete it is you."

Mark felt heat raise in his cheeks. "Maybe I will make a video." He elbowed her sides, amused by the way she jumped. "Just to show you off."

"I'm afraid you can't do that." She finished the dishes and began drying off her hands.

"Why not?" Mark groaned, jutting out his lip. She pinched it, as she'd started doing lately, which made him pull back almost immediately.

"Cause then I'd have to share the moment." She grinned, and he found himself grinning too, as had happened many times tonight. Mark was so utterly astonished by this woman, the mother of his child, and he found that he didn't really want to share the moment either.


	8. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truthfully, Scott probably can't comprehend all of the details, but he's trying.

It was Thursday night, and Scott was so excited that Mark was coming over, he'd asked you to pick out nice clothes for him. You'd obliged happily, picking out a red flannel - strikingly similar to Mark's - and a pair of khaki pants. Scott had approved, and now he was running around the house, every few steps checking to make sure that his shirt was still tucked in.

You hadn't really made an effort to 'dress up,' per say, but you were wearing slightly fancier makeup than normal, and you'd done your hair in a way that wrapped around the base of your head, and then cascaded down your shoulders. As for your outfit, you were wearing a comfortable cardigan, t-shirt, and jeans. Nothing too fancy, but not a total slob.

Mark seemed to have taken Scott's initiative, for when he arrived, he had some flowers in one hand, a bag hanging from his arm, and by some miracle, he was wearing the same red flannel that Scott sported. His face brightened when you opened the door, and you had to clear your throat before he stopped staring at you and came inside.

"Hello," you greeted warmly, giving him a secure hug. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, placing a kiss on top of your head. You took the flowers and put them in the same vase you'd put the last ones, which you'd thrown out the night before. They'd been wilting for weeks, but you hadn't had the heart to trash them until they were practically rotting. "What's in the bag?"

"Ice cream," He grinned, taking the initiative to place the two cartoons into the freezer himself. "I figured we could just have it here, instead of going out. That way it's more cozy."

"I like the way you think." You grinned, taking two plates out of the cabinet next to the sink. Scott came running from the hallway, arms spread wide. He threw them around Mark's legs, and he pulled him up to his chest, ruffling his hair.

"That shirt looks familiar." Mark said, amused.

Scott pointed at his shirt and laughed, "You're a copycat."

"I guess I am." Mark laughed, carrying Scott over to the dinner table. Scott took his seat, and Mark sat beside him, a giant grin on his face.

Surprisingly, you weren't nervous about tonight. You were sure that Scott would accept Mark immediately, and even if he had questions, you hoped that between the two of you, you could answer them. He already idolized Mark, so surely things wouldn't go badly.

"What's for dinner?" Mark asked, wandering into the kitchen. He rested his weight next to the stove, where you were scooping food onto three separate plates.

"Lasagna." You smiled, knowing how much he liked that dish. He seemed to be quite excited, too, by the way his eyes lit up.

"Don't they say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach?" Mark asked. He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your cheekbone. "I'd say that was your goal, if you hadn't already worked your way in."

You laughed, swatting his arm. "You're such a dork."

"That's me." He made his way back to the table, glasses in hand, while you carried the plates. You sat across from the two of them, because a line would just be weird, and you knew that Scott would want to sit next to Mark.

"So Scott," Mark asked as he sat down, "How was your day?"

"Good," Scott squealed, "Momma let me go to the house next door, where Mr. and Mrs. Owens live." He was practically bouncing. "Their dog just had puppies, and they let me play with them."

"Puppies, huh?" Mark looked at you, raising a brow.

"Oh, they're cute," You murmured, trying your best not to talk with food in your mouth. "German shepherd/husky mixes. Huge paws, blue eyes. The real dog deal."

"The real dog deal," He repeated, shaking his head and chuckling. "That's a new one." Mark shoved a forkful into his mouth, and you could tell by his expression that he liked it a lot. "Are you going to get one?"

Scott's head whipped in your direction, eyes wide. "Can we mommy? Please!"

"Uh...," You shot Mark a look, but he merely laughed. "I'll think about it, sweetie."

"Okay!" Scott ate another huge bite, smearing sauce on his face. Mark took the courtesy of wiping it off for him with a napkin.

"Slow down, honey, we're not in a rush."

"Oh yeah we are." Mark argued, motioning to his _surprisingly_ empty plate. How he'd managed that, you weren't sure. "Ice cream for dessert, remember?"

Scott nodded eagerly, shoving another bite into his mouth. He was almost done, too. You looked down at your own plate self-consciously, and realized that you had also eaten fairly quickly. You only had a small chunk left, and you finished that off quickly, too.

"Well, let's wait a few minutes before ice cream," You said after you had all finished. "To digest."

Scott made a pouting sound, but he didn't throw a fit, so you gathered the dishes and went to put them in the sink. Mark followed, Scott trapped in his arms. "Hey, Scott?" You called, catching his attention. Mark set him down, and he ran over, looking up at you.

"Why don't you go sit on the couch a second?" He listened, disappearing around the corner. You motioned to Mark to follow after, and he did, disappearing as well. You'd give them a few minutes before you entered the conversation.

\------------------------

**MARK'S POV**

Scott was bouncing on the couch when he came around the corner, and jumped so hard that he nearly fell off the back.

"Hey, Mark!" He greeted, landing on his butt this time. He stayed there, patting the couch for Mark to sit next to him.

"Hey, kiddo." Mark leaned back on the pillows, studying the kid's face. The resemblance that he'd noticed before was truly striking. Scott almost looked like his mom, in a way, just in the facial and eye shape. It was a pleasant similarity.

"I like it when you come over." Scott giggled, grabbing his monkey from the ground. He tugged at his ears, moving him around as if it were all of the toy's free will. "You always play with me."

"Your mom plays with you." Mark smiled at him, unable to resist Scott's own dimpled grin.

"I know," Scott said, "But she's my mom."

"What about a dad?" Mark asked, figuring he'd learn the kid's thoughts on the subject before they even brought it up.

"I don't have one, I think." Scott looked confused, tilting his head curiously in Mark's direction. "I just have a mommy."

"You have a dad, Scott," Mark said gently. Scott looked up, squinting at him.

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

(Y/N) walked in right then, her forehead creased with slight worry. "He's right, baby, you do have a dad."

Scott stood up on the couch, reaching his arms out for her to hold him. She scooped him up, balancing him on her right hip. "Who?" Scott asked, leaning his head on her shoulder. She came around the side of the couch, cradling her son to her chest, and curled up in the couch corner opposite Mark.

"Well," She said, and Mark could tell from the tone of her voice that she was scared to say it, "Your dad is...um, he's Mark." She watched Scott's face for a reaction, and looked almost shocked when he started beaming.

"Mark's my dad?" Scott asked, eyes wide. Mark wasn't entirely sure if he fully comprehended the situation, but he seemed to be doing alright.

"Yes, sweetie. Mommy knew him a long time ago, and we just...lost him for a little while."

"Like sometimes when I lose you at the store?" Scott asked, looking up at her.

Mark couldn't help but chuckle. "Exactly like that, kiddo. I was just lost in the store for a really long time."

"Oh," Scott said, hugging his monkey. "Does that mean I'm supposed to call you dad?"

"You don't have to, until you feel comfortable," Mark said, but his next sentence was interrupted by Scott bolting out of his mom's arm and throwing himself at Mark. "Well alright then."

"If you're my dad, then you can play with me a lot now!" He grinned, and Mark felt something warm flood his chest. "Right, mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie." She was smiling, and Mark didn't realize how large his own grin was until his cheeks started to hurt.

"Of course I'll play with you, all the time." Mark held his arms out, and Scott collapsed into them, laying his head on Mark's chest. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand, softly stroking the kid's head.

"How about ice cream?" (Y/N) asked, standing. She smiled down at him, obviously aware of how content Scott looked to be cuddling with his father. "I'll get it," She whispered, winking.

Mark smiled to himself, resting his chin on his son's head. He knew that things would only get more complicated as Scott got older, but he was happy that he'd learned about him while he was so young, and he knew that he'd be in this kid's life until the day he died.


	9. Netflix and Chill-ax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to Netflix and Chill with a toddler in the other room.

Mark had somehow managed to change his hotel plans last minute, securing a room with double beds (by your request.) Even though the two of you were together, it hadn't been long enough that you felt it appropriate to sleep in the same bed. When Scott had been in bed, Mark had slyly reminded you that the two of you had shared a bed before, to which you'd smacked him on the arm.

"You really didn't have to buy our tickets." You reminded him, for the thousandth time, as you descended the boarding shuttle of the plane. You had just landed in Seattle, and to your pleasure, Scott was passed out in one of Mark's arms. "I could've covered it."

"(Y/N), please, just let me take this one." Mark grinned, directing you to the baggage claim. "In my own defense, I invited the two of you on this trip, and gave you less than a week to plan."

You smiled, shaking your head. "Fine, I'll let this one go. But I'm buying dinner."

Mark pulled two suitcases from the conveyor belt, laughing quietly. "In Seattle? Please, I wouldn't make you."

"You aren't making me, stupid." You grinned, claiming the handle of your own suitcase. You yanked it up and out, so that you could roll it on its wheels behind you. Mark did the same, using his only free hand. "Do we have a taxi?"

"Sure do," Mark said, extending his arm in the direction of the front. "After you."

"What a gentleman." You smiled, heading in that direction. As he'd claimed, a taxi was waiting right out front for the three of you. By some miracle, someone else hadn't claimed it for themselves. "How far is our hotel?"

"Not far," He set his suitcase in the trunk, and then grabbed yours, doing it as well. Then, he opened the door for you, and waited until you'd settled before passing over Scott. He barely stirred at all, relaxing right into your shoulder. "Just a few blocks." Mark slid into the backseat next to you, smiling. He leaned towards the driver, "6th Avenue, please. Hilton Seattle."

"Hilton? Mark." You shot him a look, but his sheepish smile was enough to make you let it go. "I don't want you to spend a bunch of money on this."

"And I'm not," He said, grinning. "PAX is covering it."

"What is PAX, exactly?" You asked, still confused.

"A convention, it stands for Penny Arcade Expo. It's basically a place where a bunch of creators, like myself, and game developers and fans, even some celebrities, all meet up and just have a good time. There are panels and games, stuff for sale, basically a lot goes on." He opened the door as the taxi arrived at the hotel, running around to your side to open the door for you.

"Oh, okay." You tucked Scott's head down and got out. "Thanks."

Mark smiled and headed to the trunk, retrieving both of your suitcases. "Here," he handed the taxi driver the money for the bill, and the little yellow car quickly disappeared down the street. "Up we go."

You went on ahead to the room while Mark retrieved the key and checked in, and it was only moments before he caught up to you. The room was nice, much nicer than you expected. The initial room you saw didn't even have the beds in it. It was almost similar to an apartment layout, probably bigger than some apartments. The first room had a kitchen area to the right, which included a very pretty bar, and towards the back where the windows were, there was a little living room of sorts. It had an entertainment center and an L-shaped couch, of which concealed a pull-out bed, according to Mark. To the left was a set of doors, and beyond them was the bedroom - two beds, three nightstands, a desk set-up, as Mark had requested, a closet, and the bathroom.

Mark got to work setting up the equipment he'd brought on the desk, which was just his laptop, his camera, and a microphone. He also had an external hard-drive, but you didn't know what that was for.

"Do you have to record a video?" You asked, carefully setting Scott down onto the bed. He curled up in a ball, face buried between two pillows. You tucked his blanket over him, and carefully slid his monkey under his arm.

"Oh, no, I just have to upload them." Mark pointed to the hard-drive. "I store a backup of the videos on there, just in case. The camera is for vlogging."

"Ah, alright." You grabbed your suitcase, wheeling it around to the corner between your bed and the wall. You claimed the one closest to the bathroom for Scott's sake, but Mark didn't seem to mind. His bed was closer to the desk, so he'd have easier access without disturbing you or Scott. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's only three, but I don't have anything scheduled until tomorrow." Mark grinned, grabbing his camera, and threw himself back onto his bed. "But that doesn't mean I can't post something extra."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You noticed the little light that meant he was recording and covered your face, giggling. "Mark, stop."

"Look, she's hiding." Mark got up from his bed and came closer, trying to trick you into looking at him. "(Y/N), I put it away, it's okay to look."

"Yeah, right." You kept your hands up, but made a break for the other room, hoping to reach it in time to shut him out. You had no such luck, and he put his foot in the doorway to keep it from shutting. "Nice one."

"Thank you." Mark grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you into his chest. You laughed, finally giving in and removing your hands. He'd turned the camera around and flipped the screen over, so that you could clearly see the two of you in the frame. "Well, we just arrived in Seattle, and I have to say, PAX did a great job with the hotel. I'm not entirely sure what we're gonna do until dinner, but I guess we could explore."

"Mark, please," You rolled your eyes, "You'd complain after three blocks."

"I would not," Mark scoffed, looking at you as if you'd just hit his dog. "The kid, though. He might be a problem."

You looked over your shoulder at Scott, who was still sound asleep on the bed. "Fair point. Why don't we just find something to watch?"

"You heard the lady," Mark said, smiling at the camera. "Looks like Netflix and-" You shot him a look, "Chill _ax_ it is. No chilling. Chilling would be inappropriate."

You couldn't help but laugh as he turned the camera around once more, zooming in on his 'mini-me.' "Look how cute he looks," Mark whispered into the camera, and it made you smile. He kept moving closer, until the camera was so focused on Scott's face that you could only see his face and jawline. He did look peaceful, angelic, even.

"Well, time to put this away." Mark looked as if he was trying to tell a secret to them without you knowing, so you smacked his arm, laughing. "The lady calls. Bye-bye!"

"Are you really going to post that?" You asked, raising a brow at him.

"I am," He smiled, "In fact, I'll do it right now. Bonus video." Mark ran to his computer, despite the fact that you were hot on his heels, and powered up his computer. He wrestled you down to keep you from taking the camera, and you were disappointed at how easy it was. "Can't stop me, babe."

"I thought I was your lady." You grinned, shoving him off of you.

"You are." Mark stood up, leaning over you, and placed a soft kiss on your nose. "My lady-babe. My babe. My sun and stars. My queen." He grinned. "Sufficient enough?"

"Just about." You smiled, returning the kiss on his lips. "I like lady best, I think."

"Good." Mark smiled so big it looked like it hurt, and scooped you up, placing you in his lap in the desk chair. You watched as he took the file off of his SD card and uploaded it to YouTube, no editing or anything. He titled it, "Netflix and Chill-ax," which made you laugh. As it uploaded, he set his head on your shoulder, looking up at you. "How about we find something to watch now?"

"Sure thing." You hopped up, offering him a hand. He grabbed the throw blanket from his bed and headed into the living room, pulling you in tow. He sat down, and you curled up in the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder. You couldn't care less what you watched, so you let him pick, a smile on your face.

"How about a horror movie?" Mark suggested, raising a brow down at you.

"What if Scott wakes up?" You glanced at your son, who was still outcold on the bed.

"Good point. How about...The Internship?"

"That's fine." You smiled, snuggling closer into his side. "But we only chill- _ax,_ understood?"

"Understood." Mark grinned, pulling you into his chest as the movie started.


	10. Meet the Pals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Mark's not the only person who films himself reacting to games for a living. Time to meet some of his friends!

Mark was in the shower, and you were trying to wrestle a tired tot into his clothing. You'd let Scott pick them out, and weren't very surprised when he came up with as similar an outfit to Mark's as he could. He was wearing a Captain America t-shirt, dark blue, ironically similar to Mark's. He also pulled out a pair of his dark wash blue jeans, a little worn, and his sneakers. Mark, unlike his son, had laid out a pair of blue ankle boots, almost combat-looking, but the top was folded down over the laces. You liked the way they looked, classy, but ready to kick ass.

You heard the shower turn off, and not soon after, a loud thump. "You alright in there?" You called, pulling Scott's shirt over his mop of curls. He was giggling, clearly amused by whatever had gone down in the bathroom.

"Yeah!" Mark called back, voice muffled by the door. "Just, uh...slipped!" He sounded embarrassed, which made you smile a little bit.

"Try not to kill yourself." You laughed, helping Scott into his jeans.

"That's the plan!" Scott needed assistance with his shoes, seeing as how he was still learning to tie his laces. You let him at least pull them on before bending over to assist him, trying to show him the steps. He followed along, so you let him try on his other shoe. After a few horrible attempts, he managed a lopsided knot, so you simply tightened it and let it be.

Mark opened the bathroom door, releasing a cloud of warm steam into the room. He must've gotten dressed in the bathroom, because when he came into the bedroom, he was fully clothed and rubbing his head with a towel. "Twinning, huh?" He chuckled, setting his towel aside to pick up Scott and ruffle his hair. The word sounded weird in his mouth, and he must've realized, because he set Scott on the bed and laughed, shaking his head.

As you took a brush lightly to your son's head, Mark went about pulling on his shoes. The process was much quicker than yours had been, but that was understandable. Scott would get it eventually. "Oh," Mark said, fumbling around in his bag for something. "Here you go."

"What's this?" You took it from his offered hand, turning it over to examine it. There were two of them - laminated ID-looking things, both hanging from bright blue lanyards. One side of each pass said 'VIP' in big, blocky letters, and right under it was a small assortment of words about the event and location. 

"Your pass, so that you can accompany me without restrictions." He did a mock bow, a wide grin on his face. "Otherwise they'd bar you out of some places."

"Oh, alright." You set Scott's brush down and handed him his pass, which he put around his neck. You did the same, and then grabbed your jacket, pulling it on over. You were sporting an outfit you were particularly proud of - a somewhat fitting blouse, with a scalloped collar and golden buttons down the front, tucked into a high-waisted, a-line skirt. You had dressed down the outfit in flats instead of heels, just to be comfortable. Given, you didn't typically dress so girly, but you wanted to make a good impression on people.

"Ready?" Mark asked, a smile on his face. You nodded, grabbing your purse, and followed after him. The convention center was just a few blocks away, which was a reasonable walk. You and Mark had both decided that you could use the exercise anyway, and if Scott got tired, Mark had volunteered to carry him. "Off we go." He shut the door behind you, tucking the key in his wallet.

\-----------------------------------

You were only yards from the front doors when you heard screams off to your right. You looked up, but barely had a chance to glance at the source before Mark's hand was wrapped around your wrist and tugging you behind him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing bad, don't worry," He murmured over his shoulder, a small smile on his face. "Just wouldn't want them to maul you."

You peered around him just in time to see a small group of teenagers run up, wide smiles on their faces and small items in their hands. They were all cheering and saying his name, clearly ecstatic that they'd caught a glimpse of him. He received their approach with a warm smile, chatting with them for a minute. You focused more on your son than the conversation, because Scott seemed to be a little shocked at the sure amount of people waiting in the line. As the conversation began to drag on, Mark politely excused himself, using his free hand to guide you and Scott around the corner to the side entrance.

"What's that?" You asked, pointing to his other hand.

"Gifts, from those fans." The way his face lit up showed how grateful he was, and you smiled. "They always give me gifts at these things. I feel bad that I can't take all of them with me."

"How do you get them, then?" You asked, raising a brow.

"I have PAX ship them to me." Mark grinned, motioning to your bag as if asking if he could put the stuff inside. You nodded, opening it for him.

"That's nice of them." You re-shouldered your bag and shot him a curious look as he opened the door, stepping inside. "What's first on the agenda."

"Well, we have about an hour before opening, which is usually where I walk around and talk to some of my YouTube friends. When the convention opens, we have about ten minutes before I have to go sit on a panel." He led the way, through some side hallway and into what appeared to be a lounge, of sorts. There were a few people milling about, and some of them recognized him, shooting waves or friendly, "Hello!"s in his direction. He responded to all of them politely, either by stopping to talk for a minute or just waving back.

"What should Scott and I do during the panel?" You asked, responding to some of the waves yourself. A few people seemed to be curious about just who you were, but no one asked, probably scared of seeming impolite.

"Why, sit in the front row and enjoy my stupidity, of course." Mark chuckled, approaching a small group of guys in the back corner of the room. "(Y/N), this is Bob, Wade, Sean, and Ken." All four of them offered you some form of welcome, to which you responded with a smile and a wave.

"So this is (Y/N)?" One guy, Bob, as Mark had pointed out, stood up, holding out his hand. You shook it, smiling at him.

"That's me." You said in a friendly tone. "And this is Scott." You stepped aside so that they could see your son, and all four of their jaws dropped.

"Damn, Mark, he really is a clone." Sean said, clearly shocked. "Like, wow." You couldn't help but notice his bright green hair, and you figured it had something to do with Mark's red hair, as well.

"I know you said that, but I didn't think he'd look _that_ similar." Wade stood up, also offering you his hand. You shook it, laughing softly.

"Yeah, Mark had the stronger genes, I guess." You laughed, hoping that your joke hadn't been too awkward. Luckily, the others started laughing, too, and Mark straightened his posture proudly.

"Strong man, strong genes." He picked Scott up, throwing him over his shoulder. The tot pounded on his back, giggling in amusement.

"Daddy, put me down!" Scott was laughing hard, probably due to the fact that Mark was worming his fingers into his son's sides. Every time Scott said that, it made you smile - he'd made a point of inserting it into nearly every sentence since he'd found out, as if he was so proud to have Mark as a father, he had to remind everyone.

"So, (Y/N), I hear you're from Ohio too, right?" Wade offered you a bottle of water, which you took gratefully.

"Yeah, Tipp City. It's not far from Cincinnati." You took a sip from the bottle and tucked it into your purse, thankful that you'd chosen to bring the one with a little more room. "You and Bob live there, right?"

"Well, I used to. I live in North Carolina now." Bob smiled, taking his seat once again. "Wade still does, though." He smacked Wade on the back, who grunted and flopped back into his seat.

"Pretty state," You murmured, smiling. "My grandma lives in Asheville, and she loves it there."

"It is pretty, up in the mountains." Bob handed another bottle to Sean, per his request, who then turned to you.

"I'm Sean." You shook his hand, and moved over to offer you a seat on the couch he'd been hogging. "A lot of people call me Jack, though."

"Is that a...nickname?" You asked, confused.

All four of them laughed, clearly about something you weren't in on. Mark clued you in. "He's a YouTuber, it's part of his username."

"Oh," You said, laughing. "Sorry, I don't really watch YouTube. I'm just getting used to the idea of filming yourself reacting to video games."

"That's almost refreshing." Ken laughed, making room on his couch for Mark. "A lot of people watch YouTube, especially gaming channels, so it's hard to find people at conventions like this that don't know who we are."

Mark sat down, tucking Scott under his arm, who continued trying to squirm free of his grasp. "Please, Ken, lots of people don't know who you are." Mark laughed, accompanied by his friends, but Ken only rolled his eyes, smiling.

"You guys ready for the panel, then?" You asked, trying to find a topic that they'd relate to. They all began murmuring about something, either how excited they wear - particularly Sean - or how much they wished the panel wasn't so early. "How long do they usually last?"

"Not long." Mark finally released Scott, who giggled and tried to wrestle Mark's arms down. Mark amused him, shooting you a sneaky wink. "Besides, we have a lot of fun."

"Well, that _fun_ happens in fifteen minutes." Sean stood up, gathering his things together. "I guess we should go set up."

"Sean makes a good point." Mark set Scott down, gently pushing him in your direction. "I guess I'd better go. If you head around that corner," he pointed to an exit off to your right, "They'll go ahead and let you in. See you in fifteen." He grinned, kissing your cheek, and headed off after his friends.

"Come on, sweetie," You grabbed your son's hand, leading him in the direction Mark had instructed you to go. "Let's stop in the bathroom first, huh?"

Scott nodded, skipping along beside you. You had to admit, you were excited to see Mark in his element like this, especially with his friends by his side. They seemed like a nice group of people, and you figured you'd get to meet even more of them after the panel. The panel, though, was bound to be a blast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little slow and short, but it's only a filler until the next one, which I promise will be long and exciting!


	11. Misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sh*t goes down, let me be frank

The panel had been a blast, and Scott seemed to really have enjoyed himself. You'd imagined he'd get bored eventually, but he was infatuated with his dad, and hung on the edge of every word he said. Mark also seemed to have had a blast, so much so that he'd exhausted himself running up and down the aisles. After the panel was over, you'd gathered your son into your arms and made a hasty exit, hoping to beat the crowd. Much to your luck, the employees manning the doors let you slip down the side hall, back around to where Mark would be coming off of the stage. You met him there with a warm smile, and your son threw himself at his father's legs.

"How was it?" Mark asked, scooping Scott up into his arms. He was sweating a little, but he was beaming, and it warmed your heart to know that he was having so much fun.

"It was very entertaining." You hooked your arm through his offered elbow, allowing him to tow you along to the lounge room. "Scott really had fun."

"Sure did!" Scott grinned, laying his head on Mark's shoulder. Mark smiled, kissing the side of his son's head.

"I'm glad you weren't bored." He took a deep breath, offering his friends a brief wave as the two of you turned down the hallway to the main section of the convention center. He promised to catch up with them later, to which they smiled, giving him suggestive looks and motioning between the two of you. Mark simply rolled his eyes, turning back to you. "Big turnout today, huh?"

"Definitely," You agreed, examining your pass. "Is this how many people usually turn out?"

"It's not usually this bad," He murmured, leaning closer so that you'd be able to hear him over the crowd noise, "But we do have big turnouts pretty often."

"That's amazing," You replied. "I didn't even know that this community was so big."

He was grinning now. "You'd be surprised." He switched Scott into his other arm so that he wasn't obstructing the two of you. "Let's head over to the Polaris booth, to meet some fans."

You let him lead the way, seeing as you had no idea what or where that was. You figured it had something to do with his channel, so you put on a smile and tightened your arm through his. He smiled over at you, gently pulling you towards him to keep you from crashing into a cutout of some character you'd never seen before. "Thanks," You murmured, laughing.

"No problem, my lady," He chuckled, turning the corner. You spotted the booth he was heading for - Sean, Bob, and Wade were already there, standing around a table decorated with a big 'Polaris' logo and a blue cloth. There was a _very_ long line trailing around the corner, filled with excited guys and girls, all waiting to see the three of them. A few cheered when you and Mark came into view, and you couldn't help but catch the occasional broken smile. To say the least, a few of them did _not_ seem happy to see you.

"Oh, there you are," Sean said as the three of you reached their trio, handing Mark his pass. Mark put it on, though you weren't sure when, exactly, he'd taken it off. "People have been waiting for you."

"Yeah, Mark, your absence is holding up the line." Bob chuckled, offering a hand to Scott. He high-fived it, faced bright with a smile.

"Don't fret, men, I'm here now." Mark puffed out his chest, eliciting a few laughs from the people in the front of the line. Though you figured he'd set Scott down to speak with his fans, he only hugged him closer. The first girl in line shot him a confused look, but smiled all the same.

"Who's this?" She asked, extending her hand to offer him a small poster with his logo painted very _professionally_ across the front.

He took it gratefully, smiling down at it, and set it on the table behind him. "This here is Scott, say hi, Scott," He waited for his son to wave, and then looked at her once more, "My son."

"You have a son?" She said, a little louder than she might have intended. It definitely caught the line's attention, and suddenly, everyone was listening sharply. You couldn't help but empathize with them - surely this would be confusing, to find out that one of their idol had a four year old son they'd never heard of. It was still confusing to you, and you were the kid's mother.

"Sure do." Mark grinned, somehow managing a nonchalant tone. "Isn't he my mini-me?"

For all her credit, the fan recovered fairly quickly. "He really is," She cooed, a bright smile on her face. She didn't really seem upset, which was pleasantly surprising. Her eyes trailed over to you, and her smile grew. "Oh! You're the girl from Mark's vlog yesterday!" She seemed happy to see you, which was almost...exciting. You'd expected a hateful response from all of his fans, either out of jealousy or frustration at you and your son's sudden appearance in their idol's life. But no, she was being very friendly, so much so that she even offered you a hand. "I guess you're the mom then, huh?"

You took her hand, offering her a warm smile of your own. "That would be me. It's great to meet you. I'm glad my first fan encounter wasn't a bad one."

"Psh, that's uncalled for." She handed similar posters to Bob and Wade, and pulled out a small, green stuffed _thing_ for Sean. "As long as Mark's happy, I don't really care what he does. People get worked up for no reason." She turned back to Mark, giving him a small wave. He was grinning giddily, as if he couldn't be more pleased with how this situation was unfolding. "I guess I won't hold up the line anymore. It was nice to see you all!" She trotted away, a smile on her face.

"I hope all of your fans are like that," You mumbled to Mark, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Most of them are pretty great," He responded, winking at you.

The next few stepped forward - it was a group of five, three girls, two boys. They were all wearing various fandom merch, so much so that one girl was wearing a full tardis costume. You chuckled to yourself, giving them a wave. You experienced the same warm welcome as before, and all of them - except for one, but hey, they can't all be winners - seemed to be genuinely happy that Mark had found someone.

The next girl in line, however, was not so pleasant. She was angry the second she stepped forward, and didn't offer you so much as a glance. Instead, she glared at Mark, who subconsciously turned so that Scott was farther from her.

"No offense, Mark," She hissed, "But how about next time you have some huge secret to share with your fans, you actually grow a pair and come forward about it? I think I stand for a lot of people when I say that it's kind of a shitty move to just ignore all of the pictures and leave us to figure it out for ourselves. Not to mention, showing up with _her_ ," She pointed a sharp finger in your direction, "In a place that's supposed to be about interacting with your fans. Thanks for nothing."

She was gone as abruptly as she'd appeared, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mark's smile falter. You placed a hand on his arm, trying to offer him some comfort. He just shook his head, clearly feeling a bit like a scolded puppy.

"Don't worry about her, Mark," Sean piped up, offering him a big, toothy grin. "Everyone else seems to really be enjoying these two. Every fandom has its assholes, right?"

"Yeah, you have a point." Mark's smile returned, and he began to greet his fans again, most of which seemed to share the same attitude as the one's before them. You were having a really good time, seeing into a part of his life like this. It was hours before you even felt exhausted, and even when you did, you wanted to stay here and talk to them more.

\-------------------------

Mark had had another panel at two, and after that was over, the two of you decided it was time for lunch. Mark said he had some editing to finish on a vlog from that morning, so you said that you and Scott would swing by and pick up some food and bring it back to the apartment. He agreed, kissing you on each cheek and heading off back to the hotel. You hung out for a bit, talking with Sean and Bob about good places to grab food nearby. Wade had disappeared somewhere, likely off with his wife, whom you'd met at the last panel. Molly was very sweet, and the two of you had hit it off right away. She'd shared your misgivings about the approval of Mark's fans, which was refreshing.

Finally, Sean and Bob helped you decide on a restaurant a few blocks from the convention center - a bistro, which apparently had fettuccine alfredo that was to die for. You shot Mark a text, asking him what he wanted, and gathered Scott and your things together. Balancing Scott on your hip, you tucked your phone into your purse and headed outside.

 It was a short walk, or at least, it seemed like it. Downtown Seattle was actually pretty nice - lively, though not as much as Los Angeles. The Bistro was a little hole-in-the-wall style restaurant, with cute chef decorations all over the walls and very authentic looking meals. You still hadn't gotten an answer from Mark, so you chose something for him and put in the order, hoping he'd be satisfied. Oh well, he'd have to deal. He'd eaten alfredo with you before, so at least he wouldn't hate it.

While you waited for the food to be ready, you let Scott play Fruit Ninja on your phone. He was getting a little antsy, probably because he'd slept too long yesterday. You should've woken him up, but you hadn't had the heart to disturb him. He seemed entertained enough then, though, so you let him be. When the cashier called your order, you handed him the appropriate cash and took the bag, smiling your thanks.

Grabbing Scott's hand, you put your phone away and headed outside once again. The walk from there to the hotel was short, considering the restaurant was only a block down the street. It had been conveniently on the way, making the trip a fluid one. When you arrived at the hotel, you headed for the elevator, pushing the button for the fourth floor. Mark had been here for almost an hour now, so surely he was almost done with his work.

It took a moment to find your room key, and when you finally managed to get the door open, you stopped short. Scott ran ahead, into the bedroom, but you couldn't make your feet move. A girl, slightly younger than you, was sitting on the couch, wearing one of Mark's t-shirts and a smug smile on her face. She jumped when she heard you come in, and grabbed her shoes in one hand, sweatshirt in the other.  Mark's clothes were on the ground in the bedroom, and his keys were sitting on the bed. You felt your heart sink with tangible weight.

"What are you-" You didn't even get the change to get the words out before she bolted past you, and as you watched her retreat down the hallway, you heard the shower turn off. By this point, your heart was beating so quickly you feel it in your throat, and your eyes felt hot and heavy. Was this why he'd left early?

The door to the bathroom opened and Mark came out, clasping a towel around his waist. He was clearly surprised to see you, which only roused your heartbeat more. He seemed to notice something in your expression, because he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. "(Y/N)?"

"Seriously, Mark?" You asked, voice quiet and tone low. Scott had figured out that something was wrong by now, because he had returned from the bedroom and was approaching you with a confused look on his face. He grabbed for your hand, and you grasped it firmly, eyes hard.

"What?" He looked very confused. How fitting.

"I'm gone for a little over an hour and you-" Your voice broke, unable to finish the sentence. "Jesus Christ." You picked Scott up, abruptly grabbing your key and darting right back out into the hallway. The door slammed shut, cutting off whatever response Mark was trying to make.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Scott asked, placing his hand on your cheek. Apparently, your eyes were hot because of big, fat tears, and he could see them. He clumsily wiped at your cheek, trying to kiss it to make you feel better. "Don't cry, mommy."

"It's okay, Scott, honey," You sniffled, hitting the elevator button. It wasn't coming quickly enough, so you mashed the button, but nothing happened. Dammit, where could you really even go? You were in a big city you'd never been to before, and had no idea where anything was. Behind you, you heard the door to your room open, and Mark stumbled clumsily into the hallway, still tugging a shirt over his damp shoulders. His hair was sopping wet, and he didn't have any socks on, but he didn't seem to care.

"(Y/N), what's going on?" He began to approach you, so you mashed the button harder, praying that the elevator came sometime soon. As he got closer, he noticed the tracks on your cheeks and sighed, his face showing how horrible and confused he felt. "(Y/N)."

"Dammit, Mark," You choked, but the elevator doors opened, an answer to your prayers. You stepped in, mashing the 'door close' button before he had the chance to get in. Once again, he started to respond, clearly grasping for words, but the closing doors cut his sentence short.


	12. Farewell

You tried to hit the button for the ground floor, but Mark had apparently adopted your tactics - he had been mashing the elevator call button just outside the doors, successfully blocking your attempt at escaping this confrontation. The doors glided open once more, revealing him in all of his confused glory. 

"Please," He murmured, using his hands to wipe his wet locks out of his eyes. "(Y/N), just tell me what's going on."

Scott was getting antsy in your arms, clearly agitated by the tension between his parents. You sighed, stepping out of the elevator into the hallway. "Mark, who was that girl?"

"What girl?" Mark asked, bewildered. 

"The one in your room. She was wearing your t-shirt, and your clothes were all over the floor, and I-" You cut yourself off, trying to grasp for words. He genuinely seemed confused, which only made this all the more frustrating. 

"I don't understand," He ran a hand through his hair, realizing how wet it was, and wiped his hand on the leg of his pants. "There was a girl in my room?" 

You stopped outside of the door to your room. "You really don't know, do you?" You were quiet for a moment, almost ashamed that you'd made such a quick assumption. "She went that way." You pointed down the hallway, and it was then that you realized she'd gone in the opposite direction of the elevator. The stairs were at the other end of the hall, too, so where would she have gone?

"What the hell," He sighed, keying the door open, and held it for you. The food was sitting on the counter just inside, where you'd left it, untouched. "I finished editing half an hour ago and stepped into the shower. No one knocked, that I'm aware of." He leaned back against the counter, staring at his feet. "Did you think I was-"

"I didn't know what to think, Mark." You sighed, setting Scott down. He wrapped his arms around your leg, laying his head against the side of your thigh. "I came back to the hotel, and there was some girl sitting on the couch, wearing your t-shirt. What was I supposed to do? I'm not used to the idea of your fan-base yet, so the thought that maybe some stalker had broken into our room wasn't the first thought on my mind." You sighed, sitting down at the dining table, and put your head in your hands. 

"I know, I'm sorry." You couldn't see him, but he sounded defeated. Suddenly, there were hands on your shoulders, and you felt him kiss the back of your head. "I'm sorry." He sat down in the chair next to you, pulling your face out of your hands, and cupped a hand around of your cheeks. "I promise you, (Y/N), I will never do anything like that." 

You were looking at him, and then you were apologizing, and then, suddenly, you were kissing him. You smiled softly, feeling a small weight relieve itself from your shoulders. "I guess we should go talk to the people at the front desk then, huh?" Your stomach was still in knots, thinking that whoever that girl was was possibly staying on this floor, and somehow could get into your room. 

"I'll do it," He murmured, kissing your forehead. "Want to get the food ready while I head down there?"

"Sure." You stood, handing him the hotel key he'd set down on the counter, and went about grabbing a few plates from the small pack he'd picked up the day before. He smiled at you and headed out, promising to be back in a minute. It didn't take long for you to finish putting the food on plates, and as you were setting the plates on the table and rounding up your son, he returned. He had a grim look on his face, and the vibe that he carried with him into the room worried you. "What did they say?"

"Well, they reviewed the cameras, and identified her. It's a girl staying down the hall. Her name is Amber." He sat down across from where you had been sitting, rubbing his hands over his face. "Apparently, she came in this morning claiming to have forgotten her hotel key, and told them our room number instead of hers. She knew your name, somehow, so she gave it to the clerk and he believed her." Mark shook his head. "The manager chewed out the employee that had been on duty - apparently he skipped any protocol he was supposed to go to and just handed her the key. She must've come in while I was showering and taken one of my shirts." You could tell by the way he said it that it bothered him to think she'd been in here without him knowing. 

"So what are they going to do?" You returned to the table with three glasses of water, setting one down at each seat. 

"They're calling the police on her, but I think the clerk will be okay. I'd feel bad if he lost his job, he just made a mistake." Mark took the glass thankfully, taking a sip from it. "Besides, I'm sure after being yelled at by the manager like that, he won't make the same mistake again." 

"I'm glad it's been handled, at least." You sat down, reaching across the table to grab his hand. He entwined his fingers with yours, a small smile crossing his face. 

"Me too." He seemed to relax a bit, and began to dig into his food. "Fettucini Alfredo, good choice." Mark grinned, shoveling a giant forkful into his mouth. 

"Ew, Mark, gross," You laughed, taking a bite of your own food. He just chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "So, what's on the convention agenda after this?" 

"Well, at six I have to do an interview with Polaris, and then we can just hang out." He smiled. "There's usually parties after it's over, but seeing as how we have Scott, I say the three of us just hang out. Sound like a plan?" 

You grinned. "Sounds like a plan." 

\---------------------------------------

You and Scott accompanied Mark back to the convention at 5:30, so that he could get his interview done. It was amusing to see him struggle for answers on camera, considering live commentary _was_ his profession. He snuck in little glances and expressions at you when the camera panned to the interviewer, and you had to make a true effort not to laugh. After he was finished, the three of you passed on a few party invitations, deciding instead to head back to your hotel and watch a movie. You had to get up early in the morning for your flight home, so it wasn't a great plan to stay out late, and you couldn't very well bring Scott. Instead, Mark suggested that the three of you settle in for a movie as a family, which you gladly accepted. 

And come morning, after all of your things were together and Mark had checked the three of you out of the hotel, you were almost sad to be leaving. The hustle and bustle of the convention had been really fun, partially because you'd had very little responsibilities and just got to follow Mark around. You made a quiet promise to yourself to come back, and, hopefully, for another convention.


	13. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say there's a safe dose of stress to keep the senses alert, but this is an overdose.

**MARK'S POV -** _four months later_

**\--------------------------**

Scott was running so fast that Mark was very concerned he was going to plummet and slam his face into the pavement. Scott, however, seemed to be having a pretty good time. Mark had taken him to the park to play on the playground with other kids, considering the kid had practically begged him for hours beforehand. Finally, Mark - who was unable to resist the kid's sweet smile and puppy-dog eyes - had given in. (Y/N) was working - she'd gotten hired by YouTube (after Mark's stellar recommendation) to oversee the graphic design unit that handled the website display and new features. It was a good job, and fairly well-paying. Plus, she seemed to really enjoy it, and had pretty flexible hours. They'd also moved in together - she'd taken up residence in his house, which Matt and Ryan were actually kind of thrilled about. Though they weren't used to having a kid around, Scott was quiet, and they enjoyed the new company. Not to mention, they always discussed how much happier Mark seemed since she'd come into his life, and that was their biggest concern. They were good friends, like his brothers, and they cared about his well-being.

"Daddy," Scott abruptly ran over, tugging on Mark's hand. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Alright, come on, kiddo." Mark held out his arms, wrapping them around his kid's waist and carefully settling him across his back. Scott wrapped his arms around Mark's shoulders, resting his chin on one of them.

"Can we come back here after?" Scott asked, his tone slightly whiny.

Mark laughed softly, nodding. "Of course, Scott."

As they approached the building, Mark set him down, but kept him close by holding his hand. The kid was five now - his birthday had been a couple of weeks ago, and Mark had invited as many friends as he could think to. Even Felix and Marzia had come, apparently because Marzia had been dying to see this 'mini-me' Felix kept mentioning. He could tell that it had made Scott happy, having so many people show up.

He held the door open for his son, watching as he quickly entered a stall and shut the door. Mark took the only vacant one, which happened to be right next to his son's. He decided he might as well handle himself, and made a small process of unzipping his pants to pee. Scott was already done, apparently, from the sound of the flushing toilet and opening stall.

"Just go ahead and wash your hands, kiddo." He said, watching as Scott's little feet disappeared out of the stall. "Wait for me, alright?"

"Okay, daddy." Mark heard another stall open, and the water turn on. He tried to hurry so that he wouldn't be leaving Scott out there alone.

As Mark finished up, he realized that the water had been running for a while now. "Don't waste the water, Scott."

There was no reply.

Worried, Mark quickly zipped his pants and opened the stall door. Scott wasn't standing by the running sink, and no one else was in the bathroom. "Scott?" He figured that maybe he'd disobeyed and gone outside, back to the playground. Mark hoped not - it was dangerous for a child to walk around alone, especially in LA. He rushed out of the building and onto the sidewalk, lifting his sunglasses to squint towards the playground. Scott wasn't on the sidewalk, so maybe he was already there?

"Scott?" He called, making his way to the playground. He eyed all of the kids there, looking in slides and around the side of the structures, but he couldn't find his son anywhere. "Scott?" He was a little more desperate now, and his tone must have showed it. A few mothers seemed to sense his distress, and one came towards him.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, worry in her tone.

"I can't find my son," Mark choked, running his hands through his hair. He wanted to pull it out - Scott had to be around here somewhere, he wouldn't have just run off. It was out of character for him to even walk away without his father.

"What does he look like?" She was calm, clearly trying to ease his stress.

Mark sighed, exasperated. He gestured with his hand, "He's about this tall, with a head full of black curls. He has (eye color) eyes. He's wearing a blue shirt and jeans." He was still looking around, praying that maybe Scott had been hiding somewhere, and was coming out now. But he had no such luck - Scott's face was not among the crowd.

"I...," She looked around, clearly turning up with the same results. "Keep looking, I'll call the police."

Mark's heart jumped to his throat. No, Scott had to be around here somewhere. Someone wouldn't have just...taken him, right? Surely Scott would have screamed, made some sort of noise? He felt like pulling his hair out. "Shit," He muttered under his breath, making his way over to the pond. Maybe his son had come over to look at the ducks, and was sitting on the bank?

Scott wasn't anywhere in sight, nor was he at the baseball fields, or on any of the trails. "God dammit!"

A few other mothers had jumped in to help now, and some of the kids were offering themselves as well. The others just kept playing, as if unaware that a five-year-old they'd been playing with moments ago was missing.

"I have to call his mother," Mark said, his heart beating so fast that he could feel it in his words. He fumbled around for his phone, a chilling feeling settling across his skin. Her number was the first to pop up, and she answered after just a couple of rings.

"Mark?" Her voice was curious, but he didn't sense any hints of worry. Of course she wouldn't be worried, she didn't know.

"(Y/N)," He said, trying not to let his voice crack. "I need you to sit down."

Now she sounded worried. "Mark? What's happening? Why do I need to sit dow-"

"Please." He said, desperate. She was quiet for a few seconds, and then reassured him that she was sitting down. "I need you to come here, to the park. It's an emergency."

"Why, what's going on?" She sounded very panicked. "Mark, what is the emergency? Is Scott okay?"

Mark's eyes felt hot and heavy. She was going to hate him, blame him. "(Y/N), Scott's missing."

 


	14. The Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for the delay! I did not mean at all to leave SUCH a huge cliffhanger and disappear. I promise, the next chapters will be soon, and I'll try to keep a regular schedule from now on. I hope you enjoy!

"Sir, please remain calm."

You reached forward, desperately grabbing for Mark's hands. Sure, you were just as freaked out as he was, if not more, but losing it wasn't going to get the two of you anywhere. You could tell that he was on the verge of a breakdown, and though you'd tried to reassure him that you didn't blame him, the haunting look in his eyes proved how little he'd listened.

"Thank you." The investigations officer looked up from her file folder, adjusting the pictures of your son that you'd brought with you. "Now, can you please recount the story? In as much detail as possible."

Mark took his head out from between his knees, running a shaky hand through his hair. He hadn't slept last night, evident in the large purple bags under his eyes, which were red and puffy from crying. You were taking it hard yourself, as any mother would, and you were so riddled with worry that you were surprised you hadn't ripped your hair out already. You also hadn't slept last night, but you'd tried to keep yourself busy. Though, no matter what you seemed to do, you couldn't get your hands or your brain to function properly. Instead, you and Mark had lain on the couch in silence, you stroking his hair and wiping his guilty tears from his face, until dawn broke and light filtered in through the windows. Given, you were a lot more in control of your gnawing anxiety than he was, but it was eating away at you on the inside. You were so terrified about what had happened to Scott, and every waking moment you were coming up with new scenarios that were even worse than the ones before. But you were holding it together, mostly. Then again, it had only been a day, and you weren't sure how long you could keep up the "strong" facade.

"I-" Mark rubbed at his eyes, bouncing his knee anxiously. "We were at the park, and Scott had to go to the bathroom, so I took him to the little structure near the baseball fields. He was washing his hands while I was finishing up in my stall, and when I came out, the water was still running and he was gone." Mark's voice broke on the last word. "I looked everywhere - the playground, the trails, the lake, even the parking lot. A few other parents helped, but no one could find him."

Mark's eyes were welling up again, and you squeezed his hand to remind him of your present. You thought that maybe you were managing so well because you were still in shock. It had only been a day, surely the gravity of the situation hadn't set in yet. You knew that the second your seams started withering you would collapse in on yourself, and you only hoped that they found him soon, else you might lose your mind.

"Were there any other men in the bathroom?"

"No, it was just us." Mark squeezed your hand back, looking over at you with a pained look on his face.

"Alright, that should be sufficient for today." She sat back at her desk, placing the page she'd been writing the account on in the folder. She adjusted everything and closed it, offering you a sympathetic smile. "The two of you should go home, comfort one another. I promise you, we will do everything in our power to find your son."

"Thank you for your time." You said softly, forcing the corners of your lips up despite how much they resisted. You pulled Mark along, making your way to the parking lot. It was probably best that you drive, so you grabbed the keys from him and slid into the driver's seat, adjusting it from where he'd had it.

"They have to find him." Mark said, breaking the silence you'd been sitting in. You grabbed his hand again, feeling your eyes get a little hot.

"They will." You said, thinking that if you said it enough it'd have to come true, right? In what kind of world would someone harm a five year old child, especially one as sweet as your son. Surely no one had kidnapped him, he had to just be lost. Who would do that? Though, you had to admit, the thought of Scott alone and lost was almost worse. Thinking that the two of you had left him behind, god, you couldn't think about it.

"Let's go home," Mark mumbled, kissing the back of your hand. You obliged, starting the engine and backing out of the space. All you really could do at this point was wait.

\-----------------------------

 When the two of you finally got home, neither of you were really sure what to say. Matt and Ryan had been respectfully avoiding you, as if the two of them sensed that leaving you alone was their best bet. Chica, on the other hand, never left Mark's side. Any time he sat down, she immediately curled up next to him or set her head on his lap, as if trying to ensure that he was okay. 

You decided to keep yourself busy and make dinner, meanwhile Mark was editing a video. He was keeping the situation under wraps as best as he could, and he'd been posting pre-recorded videos for now. You didn't think he'd be able to record one if he tried.

Dinner had the same heavy silence as everything else, and the two of you could hardly make a dent in the food. After pushing scraps around for a few seconds, Mark helped you clean up the kitchen. Matt and Ryan had gone to grab food, so you hadn't had to make very much. After everything was taken care of, Mark disappeared into the bedroom, mumbling something about a shower. You sat on the couch, and you were flipping through uninteresting channels when you felt hands on your shoulders. Mark set his chin on top of your head and kissed it, his fingers tightening.

"(Y/N)?" He asked softly, his voice sounding a little raw.

"Yes, honey?" You looked up from the couch, so that his chin was pressed to your forehead.

"Will you join me in the shower?" He almost sounded like he was pleading. You could hardly resist, and honestly, a little hot water might do you some good.

He was only wearing his boxers, so he shed them quickly and stepped under the hot water, leaving the shower door open for you. You went about ridding yourself of the day's clothes and joined him, thankful for how spacious the master bathroom's shower was.

There was no sex - neither of you could muster up the energy, and given the situation, it almost seemed inappropriate. Instead, Mark pulled you close, holding you against his chest under the water. You could feel it soaking your hair and running down the side of your face, dropping into the crevice between the two of you. He didn't say anything, and you didn't want him to. What could he say? He'd already tried apologizing, and you'd already explained to him that you didn't blame him. One of his hands came to rest on the back of your head, stroking softly at your wet hair, and the other pulled you closer by the small of your back.

"I just don't know who would do something like that," He murmured after a long period of silence, the two of you just standing there.

You thought on that for a second, your throat raw. When you tried to say something, your breath got away from you, and you felt your seams finally withering. The shock was subsiding, and all that it left was a hole in your chest the size of your son. You felt your eyes well up and your lip quiver, and finally, the sobs took you. Mark must have been anticipating it by the way he grabbed you, squeezing you against his chest. His thumb stroked your cheek, not so much wiping your tears as mixing them with the water on your face. Slowly, he sat down on the shower floor and pulled you into his lap, cradling you tightly.

"Shhh...," He murmured, but you could tell from his voice that he was crying, too. The two of you sat there for a long time, just crying into each other, until the water began to run cold and he turned it up more. It seemed that was your new thing - sitting in silence. Maybe not your new thing, but it seemed to be your only way of handling grief together, and that was okay. After a while, he pulled back just enough to grip the sides of your face, finally meeting your eyes. "I _will_ get him back," He murmured, "If I do nothing else, I will find him."

 


	15. News

Your phone was buzzing. You almost hadn't heard it, due to the fact that at some point, it had fallen off the nightstand onto the floor. Mark was dead asleep, a good sight, considering the night before. After the shower, the two of you had gone out onto the porch and talked for a while, and then come to bed. He'd gone to sleep almost immediately, with you stroking his damp hair and whispering reassuring things.

You grabbed for it clumsily, squinting at the bright screen. It was a call, from the police department. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you climbed out of bed and answered it. That made Mark stir, rolling over with a confused look on his face. You held up a finger to give you a second, listening carefully.

"Are you sitting down?" The officer asked, to which you affirmed, feeling that lump in your throat again. "We've found your son, and he's perfectly okay."

"We're on our way." You hung up and let out the choked sob you'd been holding in, quickly fumbling with your shoes. Mark quickly climbed out of bed and followed you, anxious. "They found him, Mark, they found him." You threw your arms around him, letting out a relieved sigh. "He's okay." You were crying tears of relief now. "Our baby boy is okay."

Mark was grinning, and when you turned the light on, his cheeks were wet, too. He put on his loafers and a pair of jeans, and grabbed his keys while you threw on a sweatshirt and some leggings. You didn't worry about makeup or your hair - none of it was important. You nearly ran to the car, which Mark was already in, and he peeled out of the driveway.

When you got to the station, all of the lights were on, and people were milling about the parking lot. The officer that had called you was standing in front of the building, and beside her, wrapped in a blanket, was your son. You ran to him, scooping him up in your arms and holding him as tightly as you could without hurting him. Mark wrapped his arms around the two of you, and soon everyone was crying, even Scott.

"Where was he?" You asked the officer, wiping at your son's cheeks. "Have you caught the person who did this?"

She nodded, extending a hand to usher the three of you inside. You followed her into her office and sat down in the same chairs you'd been in earlier that day. "The suspect's name is Henry Wiley, 43. He has similar crimes on his record-"

"Define, 'similar.'" Mark said, his tone sharp.

"Well, he was recently released for charges having to do with assaulting a child."

"Oh, god." You muttered, wrapping your arms more securely around Scott.

"Never to worry, we've had your son evaluated and there's no sign that he was touched in any way." She offered the three of you a sympathetic look, chewing at her lip. "He was caught bringing Scott into a gas station fifteen miles from here. A customer recognized Scott from the description in the amber alert we sent out earlier today, and called the police. They managed to catch him before he escaped."

"I assume he's here?" Mark questioned.

"Yes, he's being held until his trial, but seeing as how he was caught with your son, there's no question as to whether or not he'll be convicted. This could put him back in prison for quite a considerable amount of time."

"One can only hope." You murmured, standing. "If you don't mind, I think we'd like to take our son home."

"Of course." She stood, seeing you out. "If there are any new developments, I'll be sure to update you in the morning."

"Thank you, for everything you've done."

\------------------------

Scott was oddly quiet, but you didn't try to make him speak. You'd be surprised if he wasn't severely traumatized, and it seemed like all he wanted to do was cling to the two of you. When you got home, you grabbed his monkey and blanket and brought them to you and Mark's bed, figuring he would want to be with his mom and dad. You were right, and he quickly crawled between the two of you.

"We're so happy you're home, baby," You murmured into his helmet full of hair, kissing his forehead. He was wedged between you and Mark, his back against Mark's chest and his face buried into yours.

"I missed you, momma." He was so quiet, and by the sound of his voice, he was crying again. "And...and dad." You stroked at his hair, making 'shh' sounds, while Mark rubbed at his back.

"We missed you too, kiddo." Mark said, meeting your eyes. He gave you a soft smile, to which you responded with the same. "So much."

"Tomorrow we're going to have a fun day, as a family, okay?" You lifted Scott's face by his chin, wiping at his eyes. He nodded, kissing you on the cheek.

"Okay, momma." He lay his head down on the pillow, blinking heavily.

"Get some rest, baby." You kissed his forehead, watching as he rolled over and buried his face in his father's chest. You scooted closer, sharing a kiss with Mark before curling up yourself, stroking at your son's back. "Goodnight."

Scott mumbled a response, and Mark whispered his clearly. You smiled, temporarily concerned only with the fact that your son was home, and he was safe, and healthy.


	16. Recovery

What had been utter eerie silence the past few days had become a calm refuge of reassurance. Scott was home, and though he was oddly quiet, he seemed to be okay. You and Mark had agreed that it was best to let Scott be, seeing as how he'd just escaped a serious, though brief, trauma. Mark had signed the three of you up for basic therapy, but the two of you had come to terms with the fact that if Scott had yet to come out of his shell after a week, it would be time to see a specialist.

After the first session, just a couple of days after Scott's return home, he seemed to be doing a little better. He was jumpy, and he didn't like to sleep alone at night, but he began carrying conversation again. He was playing, too, and he did alright on his own during the day. The therapist - a very nice woman named Laurie - chalked up his recovery to how little time he'd actually been gone. Had he been abducted for a longer period of time, not only would his recovery be more challenging, but he may also have had... _other_ traumas to overcome. The thought was terrible, and as of late you'd been having dreams about the horrible alternatives. You'd been waking up in a cold-sweat with tears and your eyes, and twice now you'd had to quietly slip out of the room and sit on the porch to recover your breath.

The therapy was helping, though, and little by little, your family was returning to normal. Mark hadn't gone into much detail on his channel, but through news reports and small clues a majority of his fan-base had pieced it together. They were so supportive, and when he'd announced his small break from YouTube, they'd been very supportive of his decision. He didn't plan to be gone any longer than a month, if that, and considering the circumstances, there wasn't much room for opposition.

When you'd woken up this morning, Scott had already been awake. He was in the living room, playing with Chica and his monkey. Lego had been sitting a few feet away, watching the kid as if to ensure that he was okay. Even Banana had taken a particular interest in him, constantly trying to lay in his lap or nuzzle up to his side. It was a pleasant sight, and you did your best not to interrupt. Instead, you made breakfast for the three of you.

While you were cooking the eggs, you felt arms wrap around your sides, pulling you promptly against a firm chest. "Good morning," Mark grumbled, burying his face in your neck. "That smells good."

"It'll be ready soon," You murmured, smiling softly. "Did you manage to catch up on some sleep last night?"

Mark kissed the skin where your neck met your collarbone. "I did, I slept like a rock." His chin came to a resting place on your shoulder, eyes trained on your hands. "Did you have to sit out again?"

"Not last night." You smiled, turning your head to kiss his cheek, but his lips were there first. It made you grin - things were finally returning to normal between the two of you, and now that Scott was getting better, the house was on a steady incline.

"Well, I need you to promise me something." He grabbed the two-pronged fork from you and set it down, turning you around so that you were facing him. "Promise that you'll wake me when it happens again, please?"

You thought it over for a second. You didn't want to wake him because you knew how much he needed his sleep, but you also could use the comfort. Finally, his expression broke your resistance. "I promise."

Mark kissed your nose, grinning. "That's my girl." He kissed your forehead and went into the living room, sitting down on the couch. Scott seemed surprised to see him, clearly oblivious that anyone else was awake, but he immediately crawled into Mark's lap. Mark laughed and pinned him down, poking him in the sides. Suddenly, you heard a sound that had been missing within the last week - Scott was laughing.

Mark seemed surprised, too, and gave up on his relentless attack. Scott was still laughing, and seized the opportunity to tackle his father and tickle him. Mark chuckled, acting as if Scott were too strong for him to break loose of the assault. Your son was smiling from ear to ear, and it made your heart skip a beat. He looked like the happy kid you'd known two weeks ago, with his bottom front teeth missing and his eyes crinkling when he smiled.

"Breakfast is served," You called, balancing one plate in one hand, and two on your other arm. You carried them out to the living room, deciding that, just this once, you could all eat from the comfort of the couch. Scott bounced excitedly, grabbing for his bacon the second you put his plate down. You didn't know what had gotten his spirits up so much, but you wouldn't question it.

"It's delicious, as always," Mark said, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Like father, like son." You laughed as the two of them whipped their heads in your direction, both crunching loudly on their food. They looked almost identical, save the age difference. "Jesus, Mark, chew with your mouth closed."

Scott giggled, consciously swallowing his food before he shouted, "Daddy has no manners!"

"He really doesn't." You pretended not to notice Mark's mock wounded expression, to which he retaliated with a soft elbow jab. "Exhibit A." You grinned wickedly, poking his nose. The three of you finished your food, and Mark generously offered to clean up. It didn't take long, seeing as how there were only three plates and a pan, and soon enough he was pulling you into his lap once again. You snuggled tightly against his chest, watching as Scott returned to his game with Chica. You weren't sure what the rules were, but Scott seemed to understand them pretty well, and Chica - by some miracle - seemed to be playing correctly. "What're your plans for today?" You asked, leaning your head back against Mark's chest.

He kissed your forehead, thinking for a second. "I might get some recording done today. I'll post one of the videos I have pre-recorded." He smiled softly. "It'll be late, but that marks the end of my hiatus."

You grinned. "Late is better than nothing." As you rested your head against his chest, you felt his fingers gently brushing the side of your leg. It sent shivers down your spine, and soon enough, his fingers were tracing small patterns on your hips. He lowered his head so that his lips were brushing your neck, kissing you ever so softly. He left a trail from your earlobe to your collarbone, making knots form tightly in the pit of your stomach. "Mark," You murmured, laughing. "There are young eyes around."

He grinned, lifting your face and kissing every inch of it that he could manage. "Later, then."

"Scott sleeps in our bed," You whispered, giggling quietly.

He looked at you in his way, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I said later, not tonight." His fingers abandoned your hips so that they could enclose your hands, twining with them securely. He brought the back of your palm to his lips, kissing it even more softly than he had your neck. His eyes were watching your face, intense and unwavering. One by one, his free hand traced the features of your face, stopping when his hand was encompassing your cheek. "I am so absolutely in love with you," He whispered, sounding almost as if he could hardly believe it himself.

You felt your breath catch in your throat - it was one of those intimate moments between the two of you that could never be put into words. He was looking at you as if seeing the world for the first time, and you knew that any words that slipped from his lips could make you or break you. But that was the thing about Mark; he would never, _ever_ do anything to break the balance. His entire existence as of late was a calm blend of personal attention and family time, and never once in your entire relationship had he done something selfish or ill-willed. He was just _such_ a great person, it was almost intimidating. You sometimes felt like you could never hope to catch up, but with him, you didn't have to. He was such a giving person, constantly wanting to leave the world better than he found it, but it was moments like this that made you realize that you _were_ his world, and he definitely intended to leave you better than he found you.

You weren't even sure how to respond, how to put the tenfold of emotions in your veins into words. You figured you could at least try, and hope he could read between the lines. "And I with you," You whispered, adjusting yourself so that you were facing him, balancing carefully on his legs. Your hands cradled his jawline on either side, and you pressed your lips to his. A long, gentle whisper of a kiss, expressing as much affection for him as you could muster. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to know." He spoke the words against your lips, tickling your skin in a very foreign way. Suddenly, he was grinning, and he wrapped his arms securely around you while he stood up. You centered yourself by wrapping your legs around his torso, laughing at how easy this seemed to be for him. It was like you were nothing more than a paperweight, and that feeling was definitely a small boost to your self-esteem. He spun around, looking up at you with a smile and a warm expression. "I want you and Scott to be in my video today."

"What's your video going to be about?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair. He carried you into the kitchen, setting you down on the counter. He adjusted himself so that he was standing between your legs and his hands were resting on your thighs.

"That, my lady, is a surprise." He was grinning wickedly, and the happiness in the expression made your heart skip a beat. "Go get ready, I have a few things to take care of."

"Are we going somewhere nice?" You asked, raising a brow at him. Where was this vague plan coming from?

"Nice... _ish._ Just wear that dress you bought last week, I love that one."

"The white one with the flowers on the trail?" You'd gone shopping with Mark and Scott the week before in a desperate attempt to replenish your lacking summer wardrobe. This dress had been much girlier than you'd typically go for, but it had made you look so flawless, like one of the models you see on the discover page of Instagram. It wasn't often that you felt so good, and Mark's jaw had nearly dropped when you'd tried it on for him.

"That's the one." He grinned, helping you down off of the counter. Placing a kiss on your lips, he gave you a gentle push in the direction of your bedroom. "We're going to have an adventure today, as a family."

"I like the sound of that." You hesitated in the hallway, watching him with a curious expression. "Can I count on you to get your son ready?"

"Why, of course." He put a hand over his heart, wounded. "You just go have a little 'me-time.' I'll take care of Scott."

You laughed, giving in. "World's number one dad." Mark chuckled, and the sound echoed down the hallway after you as you shut the door to the bedroom. You didn't know what he was planning, but you were definitely going to knock him dead when you walked out of this room.


	17. A New Chapter

Mark still wouldn't tell you where you were going, or what you were doing. Even Scott seemed to be in the know - every time you brought it up, he giggled from the backseat of the car, a giant, mischievous grin plastered across his face. Mark wouldn't give you so much as a hint, and Scott wouldn't give you an answer, period. Just a smile and a giggle, or a quick glance at Mark, who always chuckled and shook his head.

After what seemed like hours of driving, Mark pulled off of the main road and onto a narrower one with freshly manicured bushes on either side of it. It was a confusing sight, considering you were _definitely_ in the middle of nowhere. White picket fences ran along the street, just behind the bushes, and around the bend the landscaping quickly became thousands of blooming flowers and sculpted shrubberies. It looked like the front entrance of a country club, or a private driveway extending back to some off-road mansion.

"Mark, where in the hell...?" He'd opened your door for you, offering a hand with a gracious smile on his face. You took it, unsure of where exactly he'd taken you. It couldn't hurt to stay close then, could it?

"We're meeting my mom for lunch." He said it simply, as if meeting the grandmother of your child _for the first time_ wasn't a completely life-changing event.

"We're _what_?" You looked at him incredulously - why hadn't he said anything? You'd have tried a little harder, maybe spent time on your hair or put more makeup on. Even though Mark and every one of his friends credited his mom with being such a wonderful, warm woman, the thought of meeting her spontaneously was absolutely terrifying. You had been suppressing the fear of her not liking you since you'd realized how much you cared about her son.

"Relax," He murmured, chuckling. He had Scott's hand in his, and his free hand was pressed at the small of your back, guiding you forward. "She's really excited about meeting you, and she's ecstatic to see Scott again. She pulled a few strings, and managed to snag us a nice lunch on a reserved deck at the country club."

Did he say, _see Scott again?_ "She's seen Scott before?"

"Well, not in person." He opened the door to the main clubhouse for you, clearly watching for your reaction. It was absolutely beautiful on the inside - tall, open windows let sunlight in from every direction, and the interior decorating looked as if it had been pulled directly from one of the celebrity estates. After you took it all in, you shot him a look, brows raised. He must've noticed, cause he was quick to explain himself. "She's asked for pictures as long as she's known about him, and lately, she's been FaceTiming him during the day." He shrugged, offering you a sheepish smile. "It's while you're at work."

You couldn't help but smile - it was nice to think that Scott had such a committed grandparent, considering how lacking your parents were. "So she has known about him." Mark had never really addressed it, so you'd never been sure if he'd let on to his family about his secret son and girlfriend, aka mother of his child. Apparently, though, he had, which was a warm thought.

Mark led you around the corner and out onto a decently sized, screened in porch. The decor out there was beautiful as well, complete with a double-sided gas fireplace and long glass table, already prepared with small trays of food. Appetizers, maybe? Jesus, this looked expensive. Sitting in a rocking chair over by the window that overlooked the golf course was a small woman, her face hidden by her black hair. When she turned around, though, you really noticed the resemblance - the eyes were identical, and clearly this was where he'd gotten his hair from. It probably explained why he was so short, too - not that you actually thought so.

"There you are!" She jumped up from her chair, approaching her son with her arms stretched wide. She had an accent, you noticed, but it was a pleasant one. You stood off to the side, hand in hand with your own son, a nervous smile on your face. She held onto Mark for a moment before releasing him, turning her attention on you and Scott.

Scott seemed to be as thrilled as she was, throwing open his arms and charging her like a bat out of hell. She received the approach warmly, though, and swept him up into her arms. "You really are his mini-me," She said, emitting a soft laugh. She set him down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and placing a tender kiss on the crown of his head. When she stood, her gaze shifted back to Mark, eyes nearly as happy as the smile on her face. "He's beautiful."

Mark was grinning like an idiot, clearly satisfied with the exchange. "Clearly, mom, he looks like me." That earned him another laugh. When Scott finally tired of the greeting, Mark scooped him up, supporting his weight with his left arm. He pulled you in with the right, placing a kiss on your cheek. "And this is the mother of the beautiful child, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my mom."

She shifted her eyes on you, and you anxiously awaited all of the terrible outcomes you'd come up with on the walk over. To your surprise, her entire face lit up, and she quickly pulled you out of Mark's grasp and into a hug. "Oh, Mark, she's even more beautiful than the pictures." She grasped your arms, looking up at you with an ear-splitting grin. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mark talks about you all the time."

When you glanced over at him, he was sporting bright red cheeks and a sheepish smile. So he talked about you a lot, hm? You'd have to remember that, so that you could tease him the entire way home. "It's nice to meet you too, Mark has nothing but good things to say about you." You returned her smile, feeling your nerves finally settle. She really was a lovely woman, and so friendly that you weren't sure how this could've gone badly.

"He better, I raised him." She laughed, taking a seat at the table. You followed suit and sat next to Mark, across from her and Scott, who was loving the entire situation. "So, tell me about yourself. Mark's version was too choppy."

You laughed, twining your fingers with his. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, as if to tell you that things were going well. You dove into your history, explaining where you'd grown up and gone to school, what your family was like, even how you'd met Mark - minus the details, she could fill in those blanks. Her favorite part seemed to be how you'd moved to LA and happened to get a house down the street from him.

"It was meant to be," She said happily, resting her chin on her hands. From what you could tell, she seemed to like you quite a bit. Either that, or she was very friendly and incredibly talented at faking it. You hoped not, for the sake of her approving of you. After all, Mark adored his mother, and you had no doubt that her opinion weighed heavily in his mind.

"Speaking of which." You heard a voice from around the corner, and suddenly, a small group of very familiar faces joined the party. Bob, Wade, Ryan, and Matt were standing there with doofy grins on their faces - Bob was holding a camera, and Wade seemed to be hiding something inside of his hands. Matt was holding a bluetooth speaker, and soft, romantic music was filtering into the room through its surface. Ryan was empty-handed, but seeing as how you didn't know what was going on anyway, that didn't seem particularly odd.

"What's going on?" You stood from your chair, flashing Mark a curious - and slightly concerned - look. "When did the two of you fly in?" Neither Bob nor Wade answered - instead, they maintained their goofy smiles, looking at Mark as if waiting on him for something.

"Well," Mark was standing now, too, and his grin was the biggest of them all. In one swift motion, he pulled you further out onto the porch and grabbed your hands, clasping them in his. "I just want you to understand one thing, above all else." He was looking at you with such intensity that you couldn't bring yourself to look away, and you felt knots starting to form in the pit of your stomach. "I am absolutely, 100%, crazy-in-love with you, (Y/N), and not a day goes by that you aren't on my mind every second of it." He paused, clearly nervous about _something._ "I want us to be a complete family, for everyone to see. I want to show you and Scott off to everyone I know, and I want you by my side, always."

You thought you might know where this was going, and judging by the knowing look on everyone's faces - including your son - this had been a plan. You watched as he pulled a small box from his pocket and lowered onto his knee, your right hand held gently between his fingers.

"(Y/N), will you marry me?"

You hadn't even realized you were crying until he reached up and wiped tears from your cheeks, his grin quickly turning into concern. He opened his mouth to ask, but you cut him off with a sharp nod and a smile. He slid the ring onto your finger, and before you could admire it, he swept you up into his arms and placed a big, affectionate kiss on your lips.

When he finally pulled away, his friends were cheering, and his mother looked to be tearing up, too. You gave him a gentle punch to the shoulder, unable to control your giggles. "Of course I'll marry you, you big doof." You threw your arms around his neck, and he held you close, swinging you around for a brief moment.

Scott ran over, barreling into your side and forcing himself between the two of you. He held up his arms, and Mark swept him up, cradling him in his right arm while pressing you against his chest with his left. Ryan seemed to be breaking out some champagne, and Bob was getting some closeup shots of the three of you with his camera. You weren't sure why he had it, but at this point, you didn't care. You were engaged to the father of your child and man of your dreams, and as unconventional as it sounded, you were most definitely walking on clouds.

\---------------

Mark was recording, and you'd been given the day off, so you and Scott had gone about setting up the coolest pillow fort ever in the living room. He was having a blast just getting the cushions to stay up, so you couldn't imagine what it would be like once you'd figured it out. You'd tried earlier to get Mark to take a break and join you, but he was locked in his office, oddly quiet.

As Scott went about collecting blankets from the linen closet, you checked your phone, making sure you had no updates from work. There were none, but there was a text from Courtney, or rather, twelve texts from Courtney. She was clearly upset about something, so you figured you'd take a short break and get back to her. When you pulled up your messages, she was rambling on about something that had happened. That's when you noticed the last message. " _I know you live in celebrity town over there on the west coast now, but I'd have thought you'd have told me something like this over the phone, at least._

What the hell did she mean by that? There was another vibration, and when you looked down, she'd added to her rant.

_At least the guy is hot. Call me, okay? ASAP._

You did, and she picked up after the first ring. Before she could launch into her rant, you cut her off, completely and utterly confused. "Courtney, what the hell are you talking about?"

" _You didn't tell me you were engaged! I mean, I knew that you were seeing Scott's dad, but I didn't know it was_ that _serious."_

How, exactly, had she heard about this? He'd only proposed yesterday, and beyond the people that had been there, no one else had been informed yet. The two of you had decided to wait until the right time, and break the news to everyone, including his fans. "Where did you hear about that?"

_"Your brother sent me a link to the video. It's on Bob's channel."_

You froze, furrowing your brows, and quickly grabbed for your laptop. Sure enough, front and center on his page was a thumbnail of you, Mark, and Scott together, smiling, with the title, 'He's Finally Taken _.'_ "I'll call you back." Despite her protests, you hung up, making a note to _actually_ call her back later. You clicked on the video - sure enough, it was the entire proposal from start to finish, and from the angle, you could tell that it was definitely Bob's video. Had Mark told him to post this?

You told Scott to hang on a second and made your way down the hallway to Mark's office, still confused as to why he was so quiet. When you pressed your ear to the door, you could hear his voice, faintly. Was he vlogging? You knocked on the door, expecting him to yell out, 'filming,' as he usually did, but to your surprise, he opened it. "And here she is now." He grabbed your hand, pulling you into his office, and the two of you sat on the couch under the window. "This is (Y/N), everyone. In the flesh. Well, computerized flesh." He wrapped his arm around your waist, motioning to the camera in his other hand. It was sitting on a tripod and facing your direction, and by the little blinking light on the side, you knew that it was recording. "But yeah, that's the story, all of it. I know I've been keeping things from you guys, and like I said, I'm so sorry, but I had my reasons." He smiled over at you, and the fondness in that smile nearly melted your heart. "We were figuring things out, and now we have."

As if on cue, Scott appeared in the door. "Mommy? I'm waiting." He made his way over to the couch, unaware of the fact that Mark was recording. Mark scooped him up in one swift motion, pulling him into his lap without protest.

"And this is Scott, the mini-me I told you about." He pointed at the camera, directing his son's attention. "Say hi."

Scott giggled, waving frantically with his right hand. "Hi!"

Mark chuckled, pulling you closer. "Well, this has been an update on what's going on in my life, and an explanation of the video that Bob posted. It was meant to be incorporated into this vlog, and still will, but a mix-up happened. Hopefully this sheds a little light on the confusion." He grinned, looking over at you. "So thank you everybody so much for watching, and I will see _you_ in the next video!" The expectancy on his face was absolutely mind blowing - even Scott seemed to catch on. The three of you began waving, all murmuring a chorus of "bye-bye's."

Mark shut the camera off, humming quietly to himself.

"So that was an accident, then?" You asked, leaning back on the couch.

He nodded, bringing the camera over to his setup. "Yeah, I was planning to surprise you with this video." He held up the camera, smiling softly, "But Bob's files messed up somehow and he uploaded that video instead of a gameplay video. It's alright, though. This vlog explains it all."

"Won't your fans be a little pissed?" You were slightly concerned - his fanbase hating your guts wasn't exactly on your bucket list.

He set the camera down, making his way back over to you. Reaching for your hands, he pulled you up, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I'm sure there will be a little backlash, due to how out of the blue it is, but it'll be fine." He kissed your nose, giving you a reassuring smile. "They'll adore you, but not as much as I do." Mark studied your face for a second, as if happy just to be able to stand there and look at you. It was absolutely thrilling, to think that he cared so much for you. "My fans _have_ been noticing how much happier I've been lately, though." He grinned. "They keep saying that I seem to be genuinely having fun in every video, and I never seem down anymore."

"Happy to be of service." You grinned, placing a soft kiss on his lips, and pulled out of his grasp. "You know what would make you even happier?"

"What's that?" He raised a brow, following you into the hallway.

"If you came and helped your son and fiancee build a pillow fort." You laughed, raising your brows at him.

He returned your laugh, shaking his head. "I would love to."


	18. The Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I know, it's been forever, but I'm here now! I do plan to finish this story while writing Captivity, and hope to keep up with both of them regularly. In this chapter, there's a bit of a timeskip, solely for the sake of moving the story forward. It's Christmas time, enjoy!

"Daddy! Daddy! Get up!" You laughed from the doorway, watching as Scott threw all of his weight onto his father's back, who groaned in response. "Come on, Daddy!" Your son had latched his hands onto his father's arm and begun to pull, grunting with the effort. "You big oaf! Get up!"

Mark rolled over, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. "Alright, alright!" He held his arms up in surrender. "I'm getting up!"

Scott cheered gleefully and returned to your side, hugging your leg. As Mark started to get up, you felt your breath leave your throat, and looked down at your son. "Scott, baby, why don't you go let Chica out, hm?"

"Okay, Mommy." He bounced off, disappearing down the hallway with a chorus of "Chica"s and "Puppy!"

You quickly returned your gaze to your fiancee, who had let the blanket fall and revealed his naked form. "Well, Merry Christmas to me," You murmured with a smirk, moving closer so that you could offer him his cup of coffee.

He took it, using your free hand to pull you closer. A wicked grin split his lips. "It's not like he hasn't seen me naked before, baby."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know that," You murmured, kissing his forehead. It took you a second to brush his disheveled red hair out of his face, and he seemed to love every second of it. "But I'd rather not explain to him why you're naked in _bed._ He's smarter than you think, and he knows that most people sleep in _pajamas."_

Mark chuckled, wrapping his free hand around your waist. "You make a very good point." He stood, planting a gentle kiss on your nose, and began to rummage through his drawers for some pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, and you sure as hell didn't mind. "I see you nabbed my pajama pants."

You looked down at your legs - sure enough, you were sporting his iconic black pajama pants, accented with little white M's, each of which had a pink mustache. "I'm advertising." You grinned. "I'm being a supportive fiancee."

"I love it when you call yourself that." He was also grinning, and he settled on a pair of red plaid pajama pants. You had to admit, you _loved_ how they looked on him. They hung low and snug on his hips, revealing the well defined curve of his hipbones that retreated inwards.

"I love calling myself that." You smiled, just as Scott came bouncing through the door. He had good timing, too, seeing as how Mark had just finished putting his pants on. "Did she go out?"

"Sure did!" He squealed, launching himself at his father. Mark was waiting, and carefully scooped him up, balancing him in one arm. He held his coffee with the other, which you noticed was already half empty.

"How about we go open some presents, then?" Mark asked, quirking a brow at you. You nodded, unable to hide your smile. Scott was already shouting his approval.

The tree was already lit up - thanks to you - and you'd closed the blinds, to make it feel more snug. The second Mark's feet touched the hardwood, Scott squirmed out of his grasp, bounding excitedly towards the presents. When you'd woken up this morning, you'd found that he'd already gone about separating the presents into three piles - his, yours, and Mark's. Scott's pile was notably larger, but neither of you minded. Mark wanted to spoil the kid just as much as you did.

"Can I open one now, Mommy? _Pleaaaase?_ " The look he was giving you so closely mirrored his father's begging face that it made you laugh. You couldn't resist it on Mark, and you sure as hell couldn't resist it on Scott either.

"Yes, baby, go ahead." You sat on the couch next to Mark, happily accepting his arms around you. He pulled you into his chest, resting his head on top of yours, and the two of you watched as Scott tore into the present. You weren't exactly sure what it was, either - Mark had kept that secret under wraps, even from you, and had been hiding most of his presents on the top shelf of his closet, wrapped securely in a blanket. You hadn't bothered snooping, so as not to ruin the surprise.

Scott examined the box, turning it side to side. You could tell that he didn't know what it was, but you sure did. "You're such a goof, you know that?" You looked up at him, and he was grinning like an idiot. "Go on, tell him what it is."

"Bring it here, Scott." Scott listened, doing his best to lift the box and carry it over to his father. Mark freed one hand from your waist to pull the box up into his lap, pointing to the picture on the front. "This is called a Super Nintendo System. We can hook it up to the TV, and you play games on it."

Scott's eyes lit up. "Like my DS, Daddy?"

Mark nodded, chuckling. "Yeah, kind of. It's cooler, though. Daddy and Uncle Tom used to play with one of these when we were your age."

"Woah." Scott grabbed the box, setting it back down next to the rest of his presents. You could tell just by his face how excited he was to play with it, when everything had been opened. "Mommy's turn!" Scott grabbed a present from your pile, bringing it over to you. "This one's from Daddy."

You looked over at Mark, catching the giddy glint in his eye. He was watching your deft hands with intent, clearly anxious about whatever what inside. When you managed to get the paper off, you were met by a small, moleskin journal. It clearly wasn't new, judging by the wear on the binding, and when you opened the cover, it was dated six years ago. "Mark?" You looked to him for an explanation, brow raised.

"I bought it the day after we met," He said softly, tightening his arm around you. He kissed your temple, watching as you turned the first page. Taped to the paper was the note you'd left him, the morning after the two of you had met. You were surprised he'd kept it. "When I woke up and you were gone, I couldn't get you off of my mind. I wanted to find some way to see you again, but you'd disappeared off of the face of the planet. So, I figured, 'Hey, I'll just write about her, and that'll clear my mind."

You turned the page again, and it was a letter, dated that same day. You wouldn't read it now, but the anticipation of reading it later on made your stomach knot up. "What about the other letters?" You asked, noting how different the handwriting on the next page was.

He smiled, resting his forehead against the side of your head. "I wrote that one the first time I saw you here. That day that I practically ran over you." He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "I've been writing a letter every week since, keeping track of what happens. It's how I first figured out that I was in love with you."

Sure enough, page by page, there were letters, each dated with a week inbetween. You stopped on one letter in particular - based on the beginning of it, that was the week that you and Mark had finally talked about Scott. You remembered now - Scott had fallen off of his bike outside of Mark's house, and despite your best efforts, he'd managed to sit you down and force you to talk to him. You smiled at the memory, and when you glanced over, he was smiling too.

"How did I never notice you doing this?" You asked, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He grinned, a soft chuckle rolling off of his lips. "I'm just that good."

You were laughing too, but he silenced the sound with an affectionate kiss on your lips. "Thank you," You whispered, lips tickled by his stubble. "I'll read these later. I love it."

"I love you." He kissed you again, earning a chorus of 'Ew's and 'Stop! Cuties' from Scott, who was looking on with his tongue sticking out.

"I love you too." You grinned, returning your head to his shoulder. "Alright, Scott, baby, bring Daddy a present."

"Okay!" Scott trotted over to Mark's pile, picking up a decently sized present and plopping it in his lap.

Mark raised a brow at you, noticing your name on the tag. He tore into it, revealing a medium sized, white box. Inside was a baby book, bound in soft blue fabric, with Scott's baby picture tucked into the little glass slot in the center. "I know you think about how you weren't around for a long time," You murmured, linking your arms around his bicep. "I figured I'd put together all of the pieces for you, so that you could see his milestones too."

Mark didn't say anything, but began flipping through the pages, his fingers tracing the memories as if he was looking back on a part of life he deeply missed. When he came to the lock of hair from Scott's first haircut, he laughed, brushing the ends of it with the tips of his fingers. He lingered on every page as if he were scared to miss something, and it was a while before he finally set it down.

"Thank you," He said quietly, turning so that he could see your face. When you glanced up, you noticed that his eyes were slightly glossy. "Thank you." He said it again, softer this time, and put a hand on each of your cheeks, bring your lips to his. "This means so much, you have no idea."

"Looks like we're both sentimental trash." You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. He laughed, and all the while, Scott watched with disgust. He didn't object verbally this time, though, so you rewarded him by letting him open more presents. "Who's that one from, baby?"

"Santa!" He was bouncing up and down eagerly, and tore into the present as if it were his last meal. "Woah, Mommy, Daddy, look!"

The two of you laughed, watching as he eagerly set aside his new toys and moved on to discovering other presents. You didn't bother opening your other presents until your son had finished with his - it wasn't as big a deal, and as adults, you were a lot more patient than he was.

When all was done and every present had been opened, you went about making breakfast for the three of you. Usually, you'd make enough for Ryan and Matt, but they'd moved out a few months ago to live in an apartment together. So now, it was just the three of you, and it was actually pretty roomy.

You felt arms wrap around your waist as you cooked the bacon, holding you firmly against a strong, flat chest. "Smells delicious," Mark said, resting his head on your shoulder. He watched as you flipped the bacon over to ensure that it was equally cooked.

"You say that every morning," You laughed, taking the bacon off of the hot burner. Despite your efforts to move, he didn't let go.

"Mmm, I was talking about you." He grinned, kissing you in front of your ear. You giggled, squirming out of his grasp so that you could put the bacon on the plates. You'd made chocolate chip pancakes, Scott's favorite, and bacon. A simple meal of champions.

Mark followed you to the other counter, his hands resting questionably on your hips. "Mark," You giggled, looking over your shoulder, "Your five-year-old son is in the other room, ten feet away from you."

Mark was eyeing your lips hungrily, but he didn't act on it as you know he wanted to. "It's a good think I'm a patient man." He grinned wickedly, giving your ass a quick squeeze before taking his seat at the table, watching you. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you knew that he could see it, too.

Just then, Scott bounded for his seat, beaming from ear to ear. Mark had installed his new game system while you'd finished opening your presents, and Scott had been on it all morning. He had trouble figuring it out, yes, but once he'd gotten the hang of it, he was a master. Mark seemed pretty fond of the present too, judging by how many times he'd grabbed the second controller and joined his son in playing a game.

You had a fairly strong guess as to why he'd gotten it - Mark had had one when he was little, as he'd said, and you knew that he used to play on it with his brother and father. His relationship with his dad had been strengthened by their shared love for games, and you knew that Mark wanted to have a similar, if not better relationship with _his_ son. You smiled at the thought.

"What're you smiling about?" Mark had propped his head on his hands and he was staring at you over the flowers in the center of the table. That was your addition to the decor.

"Just thinking." You winked at him, carefully stacking the plates across your arms as you made your way to the table. You put their plates in front of them and joined them, quickly delving in.

Mark looked like he was going to retort, but Scott cut him off. "Chocolate pancakes! Woah!" He grinned up at you, lips already smeared with the evidence. "Thanks, Mommy!"

Mark's hungry eyes were on you, though, as he shoved food into his mouth. Your cheeks were still hot, and the intensity of his gaze didn't help. "Hey, I have a surprise for you, Scottie." He peeled his eyes off of you just long enough to glance over at his son, who was shoveling chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth.

"What is it, Daddy?" Scott said around his mouthful of food, already looking excited again. God, the kid had so much energy.

" _Well,_ Grandma is in town, and she wants to take you out today and let you pick out some Christmas presents." Mark was grinning, but you knew it wasn't because of his mother.

You were surprised too, though. Mark hadn't said a word about his mother being in town, and though you were excited to see her again, you were even happier that Scott got to spend some time with her. Between Mark's mother and stepmother, Scott had his fair share of amazing grandmothers. It wasn't a surprise at all that she'd made the trip to come see him.

"Will Grandma be joining us later?" You asked, looking at him over the rim of your glass.

Mark was watching you just as intently, trying to hide the small smirk on his lips. "For dinner. She said she'd have Scott back around seven."

Scott was eating happily, completely unaware of what was really going on, much to your relief. He was clearly excited about seeing Mark's mother, and he swallowed his food in record time.

You sipped at your coffee. "When's she picking him up?"

"In an hour." Mark looked past you at the stove, reading the time off as if it were a secret. "At ten."

That would mean that you'd have nine hours alone with your fiancee, and you knew him too well to think that he hadn't thought about it already. He clearly had plans for you, and the thought of spending your first Christmas with him in any way, shape, or form was thrilling enough.

Scott took that as an incentive to run off to his room, squealing something about finding some clothes. You grabbed his plate as well as your own, trying to ignore the feeling of Mark's eyes burning a hole into your back. When you'd cleaned them and tucked them into the dishwasher, you turned around, nearly jumping out of your skin.

Mark's face was inches from yours, and he successfully pulled you against him, kissing your lips. "Merry Christmas, baby."

You grinned, running your fingers through his red locks. "Merry Christmas, Markimoo."

Little did he know, you had your own plans for _him._


	19. A Christmas Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ill be real, this entire chapter is just smut and fluff. im not really sorry about it

When Mark's mother knocked on the door, you anxiously made sure that Scott was ready and left him with his father, who could barely peel his eyes off of you long enough to find the handle. A smile split your lips all the way from the living room to the bedroom, and the second you'd shut the door, you began removing your clothes.

The day before yesterday, while doing some last minute shopping, you'd taken notice of a cute little number on a mannequin in the Victoria Secret store window. Sure, you weren't one to indulge on things like this, but the thought of making Mark's jaw drop had just been too strong. It was a corset-style one piece, made entire of red lace, with a little belt that cinched at the hips. The neckline and rim of the bottoms were lined with soft white down, resembling one of the typical "Santa Baby" lingerie sets, only much more classy.

It was soft to the touch, and felt like heaven to slip on. When you looked in the mirror, you couldn't help but smile at how _nice_ it looked on you. Your legs looked miles long, and your shoulders looked accentuated and delicate. The bow on the front of the belt was decorated with white lace, and in big embroidered letters, each leg of the bow said, "Unwrap me."

You were grinning like an idiot now, and slowly, you took your hair out of the loose bun it had been in all morning. In reality, you'd been hiding the soft curls that you'd created with a series of intricate braids the night before. Now, they cascaded down your shoulders, only adding to the look. You didn't bother putting any makeup on - it would take too long, and Mark had a habit of messing it up.

When you peered through the window, you could see Mark's mother driving promptly down the street, Scott bouncing excitedly in the backseat. As much as you adored your son, to the ends of the earth and back, it was nice to have some alone time with your husband-to-be.

As if on cue, you heard footsteps in the hallway. You quickly rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door, and pressed your ear close to listen. The door to the bedroom opened, and you felt a small smile begin to spread across your lips.

"Baby?" Mark's voice was thrillingly low, clearly wondering exactly what you were up to. You heard shuffling, and then a slight shift of weight as he sat on the bed. "Everything okay."

Your fingers gripped the handle, calmly pulling the bathroom door open. "Everything's perfect," You cooed sweetly, leaning against the door frame.

His eyes shifted from the other end of the room, and when they landed on you, it looked as if he were going to hop out of his skin. His lips fell open, his eyes wide, and within seconds, he'd abandoned his position on the bed. His hands were suddenly on your hips, pulling you backward. He didn't stop until he was sitting back down with you between his legs, a devilish grin on his face.

"This is a nice little thing," He murmured, fingers tracing the fluff along the neckline. His other hand traced the lace pattern, stopping when he came to the bow in the center. He read it carefully, and his eyes lit up with that spark that meant he was up to something. "Oh, gladly."

"Mmmm, not yet, handsome." You grinned, running your fingers through his hair in a way you knew drove him crazy. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. His hands gripped eagerly at your sides, digging fiercely into your skin. "You're the one that credited yourself with being a 'patient man.'"

"A patient man who knows what he wants," He growled in response, looking up at you with that same fierceness in his eyes. He stood, pulling you tight against his chest, his face inches from yours. "And you, my lady, are a tease."

You grinned wickedly, pressing your hips against his. He let out a short breath, his fingers digging deeper into your skin. "You love every second of it."

He smiled, his lips hovering above yours in an especially _frustrating_ way. "You know what I love even more?"

"Hmmm?" You stood on your toes, stealing the kiss that he was so tantalizingly dangling in front of you.

"When you give in." His grin flashed, and he tried to reach for you, but you beat him to it. You were out the door before he had the chance to stop you, but by the sound of things, it was clear he was hot on your heels. "Someone's being very naughty."

"Last time I checked," You called from the living room, giggling, "You're the one trying to make me 'give in.'"

"You have a point." When he finally rounded the corner, his jaw practically separated from the rest of his skull. "Fuck."

While he'd been recovering from your sudden disappearance, you'd made quick work of undoing the snaps in the back and removing the corset piece, leaving you completely and utterly stark naked. You'd also settled onto the couch on your side, hugging a pillow to your chest in a way that covered your breasts. You were bare from the waist down, though, and that was the first thing he saw.

Mark stood there for a second, drinking in the sight of you, before his feet carried him towards the couch. He grabbed your arms, tearing the pillow from your grasp and pulling you up so that you were standing in front of him, one hundred percent exposed. "Fuck." He repeated, hands resting calmly on each of your hips.

"Is that all that you know how to say, handsome?" You grinned, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. You jutted out your lip in a mock pout, flashing him your best set of puppy eyes. "I thought you'd be ecstatic."

He leaned forward, snatching your bottom lip with his teeth. The sensation was enough to make chills settle down your spine. "I think we both know," He growled, "That I'm _beyond_ ecstatic."

That same hungry look from breakfast was back in his eyes, and suddenly he was turning you, making room for him to settle on the couch. Mark grabbed your hands, pulling you down into his lap - one of your legs settled on each side of his hips, your chest pressed firmly against his. You shuddered when you felt how hard he was through the fabric of his pajama pants.

"Mmm..." You pressed your hips against his erection, loving the way the bulge felt between your legs. He groaned in response, bucking his hips up to meet yours. You felt him wrap his fingers around your loose waves, pulling your head back to leave your neck completely at his mercy. His lips were on your skin without a second thought, his tongue brushing against the sensitive spot above your collarbone.

Your fingers found their way into his bright red locks, pulling just enough to make him moan. In response, he bit down on your neck. You could feel the grin on his lips, and the sharp pain his bite elicited was utterly intoxicating. You began to grind on him again, making sure he was aligned correctly between your thighs with your hand. He was already throbbing, and the second your fingers brushed his erection he bit you again, barely managing to cover a moan.

His lips trailed along your collarbone and down to your chest, planting soft kisses across the front of your ribcage and down to the valley between your breasts. As he went, you braced your hands against his knees, leaning as far back as you dared. He grinned, happy with your invitation, and took one of your nipples into his mouth. He nibbled it relentlessly, using his other hand to squeeze the breast he wasn't assaulting with his mouth. You moaned, leaning your head back, and let your eyelids fall closed. If there was one thing he was _particularly_ good at, it was personal attention.

"You like that, princess?" He cooed, tugging your nipple with his teeth.

Your response was barely audible, but he caught it. "Mmmmhmmm," You murmured, fingers greedily grasping for his bare chest, so thankful he hadn't put a shirt on this morning. You ran your nails down the center of his chest, making small circles and raking down across his abs. He groaned, pulling your hips closer to him, his lips sucking dutifully at your breasts.

When you finally managed to look down at him, he was grinning at you, clearly proud of the speckles of color that had blossomed across your skin. "Mark," You murmured, clicking your tongue in a 'tsk' sound. His smile grew sheepish, and he looked at you in a way that showed how unapologetic he was.

"What?" He asked, raising his brows. "I like to mark my property."

"Is that so?" You raised a brow as well, trying your best to hide the flush of red on your cheeks. He saw it despite your efforts, and placed a sweet kiss on each of your cheeks. You reached down with hungry fingers, squeezing the tent that had formed in his pants. He groaned, trying desperately to keep his eyes on you. "I'm your property?"

"Yes," he growled in response, fingers digging greedily into your hips. When you squeezed him again, he bit his lip, leaning his head back against the cushions.

"And what do you plan to do with me?" You used your free hand to rake your nails along his shoulder, down his arm, raising a line of goosebumps in their wake. His breaths were slightly labored now, and you could tell that he was struggling to control himself. That was exactly how you liked him.

"You know exactly what I want to do with you." He looked up at you, a small, smug smile splitting his lips. It was cut short when you ran your nails along his hips, teasing the skin just above the hem of his pajama pants. In one swift motion, he lifted you, using his other arm to yank them off of his legs. His erection, now free, rested vertically against your thighs, the tip brushing the skin under your belly button.

You grinned wickedly, positioning your hips so that his cock was pressed between the two of you, making him grunt. "Tell me."

His eyes rolled open again, surprised. He clearly wasn't sure where this was going. "Tell you?" This was the first time that you'd ever tried taking control with him, and it was definitely catching him off guard.

You slid back on his lap a little, planting hungry kisses across his well-defined shoulders. "Tell me..." You murmured, pausing to suck on his skin, "What you..." This time, you nibbled at the space where his collarbones met, making him shudder ever-so-slightly, "Are going to do to me."

"Well-" His words were cut off abruptly when you nibbled along his abs, replaced by a few short breaths. "I'm going to give you what you've got coming."

"Mmmmhm....?" You were between his legs now, face hovering an unbearable few centimeters from the head of his cock, eyes trained up at him. He was watching you with an odd expression on his face - somewhere between ecstasy and disbelief. In one quick movement, you stuck out your tongue, flicking it across the tip of his throbbing erection.

He groaned, hands finding your hair again. "I'm gonna....oh, _fuck."_ He was having trouble getting a coherent sentence out, and when you tenderly bit down on his head, he let out a string of strangled nonsense. "Mmmmf...."

You swirled your tongue around, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft. "Go ahead, handsome," You cooed at him, very much enjoying how much trouble he was having.

"You're not making it...agh-very... _easy..._ ," He looked down at you, fingers forming a knot in your hair and pushing your lips further down on his cock. You obliged happily, lowering your head until your lips brushed the hand around his shaft and you felt his head in the back of your throat. Mark let out a shout, throwing his head back on the cushion. You could feel the heat of him as he throbbed in your mouth, the tension already building. "Fuck, (Y/N)!"

You pulled back just long enough to catch your breath and dove in again, this time beginning to bob your head up and down. "God," He moaned, watching your face with hungry intent. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't feel your legs anymore." It was a choked sentence, but the answer you wanted nonetheless.

Without hesitation, you used your right hand to massage his balls, taking a quick initiative with your mouth. Your head bobbed up and down at a faster pace, driving him to the point of grabbing it and holding it still, bucking his hips upward instead. He'd always loved to fuck your mouth, evident in the troubled moans he was releasing with every pump of his hips.

"Mmmm.... _fuck,_ I'm gonna-!" You felt something hot spurt into the back of your throat, bitter and thick on your tongue. Mark relaxed, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You returned to his lap, utterly pleased with yourself, and watched as he slowly started to recover from his high. He peeled his eyes open and peered up at you, that hungry smile still on his lips. "You are so fucking beautiful." He grasped your chin, pulling your lips down to his. As his tongue found its way past your lips, relishing in the taste of himself, you could feel his greedy fingers traveling down your thighs.

You pulled back when his hand dove between your legs, feeling how hot and wet you were. Mark grinned happily at his findings. "And wet." He pushed himself off of the couch, wrapping your legs around his thighs, and began the short trek back to the bedroom. You clung to him in anticipation, knowing exactly what he planned to do with you when he got to the bed.

He practically threw you down, shoulders rippling as he lowered himself on to you. "What do you _want_ me to do to you?" He asked, grinning wickedly. He was just as big a tease as you were, and you knew that you were going to pay for your antics earlier.

You bit your lip, knowing fully well that the sight of it was enough to make him shudder. It did, and he used his thumb to snatch it free of your teeth, placing it between his instead. His lips found yours again, and you didn't hesitate to snake your tongue back to his own, pulling hungrily at his body. One of his hands glided smoothly down your stomach, between your legs and to the treasure he'd found only moments ago. His fingers moved tantalizingly slow, hovering so close to your clit that you could feel the heat of them.

He repeated himself. "What do you want me to do to you?"

You moaned, impatient. "Mark-"

He lowered his voice, eyes flashing darkly. "Say it."

You'd never seen him be this aggressive, and you absolutely _loved it._ "I want your fingers inside of me and your head between my thighs," You breathed, cheeks already flushing from how dirty the words sounding on your tongue.

He grinned wickedly, trailing kisses between your breasts and down to your navel, fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. You moaned, trying your best to keep your eyes open so that you could watch him. He was watching you, pleased by your reactions, and when his kisses reached your clit, he stopped.

" _What_ do you want?" He raised a brow, the evidence of how much a tease he was being written proudly across his face.

You huffed, spreading your legs open further, as if in invitation. "Oh, Mark, _please-_ "

"That's right, baby, beg for it." Slowly, he stuck out his tongue, giving you one _satisfyingly_ slow stroke all the way from the opening of your pussy to your clit. "I mean it, beautiful."

You were loving every second of this, and the tactful way that he was teasing you was driving you absolutely insane. "Please, Mark, _please,_ " You begged, pouting at him, "Give it to me. Please."

He grinned, thrusting two fingers in as deeply as he could get them. You moaned, toes curling, and practically yelled his name. He was loving every second of it, too, and hearing his name was just the icing on the cake. He didn't hold back anymore - his tongue worked relentlessly at your clit while his fingers pumped in and out, searching desperately for that special spot that he always managed to find. He did, and after that, each of his thrusts hit it directly. It was enough to send you careening over the edge, gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You screamed his name as you hit your climax, legs spreading as wide as you could get them. His tongue was at the ready, pressed dutifully as he waited to suck up all of the evidence.

"God _fuck,_ you're good at that," You breathed, watching as he climbed back over your hips, pressing his chest down on top of yours.

He was beaming, licking the last of you off of his lips. "I just know what drives you crazy." He pressed his lips back on yours, much sweeter than they had been before. He was always like this - he could go from assertive to astonishingly sweet like the flip of a switch, and it was one of the primary things that you loved about him. When it came to a point like this, Mark was always more fond of ' _making love,'_ as opposed to, ' _fucking like animals.'_ Not to say that you didn't have your fair share of that, too, but you quite fond of this side of him.

He looked down at you, planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "I love you so fucking much." He whispered, bringing a hand to your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, smiling warmly. "I love you too, you big doof."

He used his other hand to spread your legs again, angling himself in a way that would ensure that he wouldn't miss. With his eyes focused solely on yours, he thrust into you, pausing for just a second before doing it again. Though the touches with his hands were tender, and his kisses were filled with affection, his hips moved with the greedy hunger that he'd been controlling all morning. You moaned into his mouth, raking your nails down his back.

"I love you," He repeated, words filtering softly into your ears. He kept repeating it with each thrust, as if he was scared you'd forget. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers twining through his hair.

As he picked up his pace, he reached for one of your hands, breading your fingers through his and pressing it up above your head. His breaths grew labored, and you could feel yourself tightening around him, heat building in your stomach.

"Mark, I'm gonna..." You whispered, watching as his eyes sluggishly looked to yours. "Fuck, I'm gonna-"

"Me too, baby, me too," he grunted, pressing his lips to your neck. As he latched his teeth on to your skin, you felt him throbbing inside of you, pushing you over the edge once again. He came with you, filling you to the brim and leaking out along the sides.

Mark collapsed on top of you, trying his best to recover from his climax. You were smiling like an idiot, not at all bothered by the feeling of his seed slowly leaking out of you. It was a warm feeling, and honestly, it kind of meant a job well done. He pulled back, placing a hand on either side of your face, and kissed you delicately on the lips. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N)."

You giggled, ruffling up his hair. "Merry Christmas, Mark." When you tried to sit up, apologetically rolling out from under him, you took note of the fact that your legs were actually a _little_ numb. "I think you succeeded there, pal."

He sat up a little, looking at you with a curious expression. "I'd say I did too." He motioned to the small puddle that had formed on the sheets between your legs, earning an eye roll and a brisk smack to the arm. "Then what?" Mark asked, chuckling.

You tried to stand up and giggled, sitting right back down. "Walking seems to be a little difficult."

He looked astonished. "But I didn't even make you cum that many times, I wore myself out."

You were laughing now. "I guess it's a Christmas miracle."

Mark huffed as if he were offended, but it didn't hold for long. After a few seconds, he got up, grinning proudly. He came around to your side of the bed and scooped you up in his arms, showering your face in kisses.

"Mark," You whined, giggling, "I can still walk, I'm just a little sore." He kept kissing your face despite your protests, holding you securely against his chest. You gave in, stealing a kiss from his lips, and rested your forehead in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

He carried you into the bathroom, promptly setting you down on the counter, and went about turning on the shower. "Now, I'm going to spoil you," He cooed, leaning over you as the water warmed up. It didn't take very long, and before you knew it, he'd scooped you up again. He carried you into the shower, only setting you down when he'd closed the door and aligned himself beneath the water.

"Hey!" You giggled, trying to push him out of the water. "You can't hog all of the water!"

He pretended like he couldn't hear you, very obviously trying to fight a smile.

"I thought you were supposed to spoil me?" You crossed your arms, sticking out your bottom lip.

He opened his eyes, grinning like an idiot as he peered down at you. "Not if you act like a brat." He pried one of your hands loose and pulled you into his chest, turning you so that the water struck your hair and ran down your back.

You sighed happily, leaning your head against his chest. "I'm not a brat," You mumbled defensively, unable to hide your smile. There was a sharp 'snap' as he opened your shampoo, squirting a little bit of it into his hand. You closed your eyes when he began to massage it into your scalp.

"You're right, you're the love of my life." He leaned your head back to rinse the shampoo out, using his fingers to ensure that none was left behind.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and opened your eyes just long enough to see his face. It was _super_ cheesy, sure, but that didn't change the fact that he'd never said it before. Sure, he'd said, "I love you," but this was different. Very different. "Really?" You asked softly, brushing your fingers across his jaw.

His smile softened. "Really. Why else would I make you my wife?" He cupped a hand around your cheek, placing a loving kiss on your forehead. He went on to your conditioner, soaking it into your scalp as well, and then repeated the process with the water. All the while, he kept his eyes on yours.

You choked up a little, feeling so light and happy that you couldn't help it. Mark looked immediately concerned, taking his hands out of your hair so that he could place them on your cheeks, wiping them clear.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," You assured him, placing a kiss on his lips. You buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso, and mumbled, "You just make me so happy."

He enclosed you in his arms, holding you in that snug way that made you feel so safe. "Please don't cry," He said into your hair, fingers making small patterns along your spine.

"Happy tears, Mark." You pulled back, looking up at him. His hair was already plastered to his forehead, and you grabbed for his shampoo, doing for him as he'd done for you. He still wouldn't take his eyes off of you, and you couldn't figure out why. "What?"

"Do you remember when I proposed, and my mom kept talking about how she thought this was meant to be?" He was sporting a thoughtful expression, crouching down the slightest bit to make your work easier.

You motioned for him to turn around and lean his hair back, nodding. You remembered it very clearly, actually. "Of course I do."

"Ever since you said yes, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." When the shampoo was gone, he looked back down at you, fingers gripping your shoulders. "I really think it was, (Y/N)."

"Me too." You smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. He accepted it eagerly, but you could tell from his expression that he had yet to finish his thought.

"Just think about it. Of all of the bars you could've chosen, you chose that one, and of all of the people there, you chose me." He smiled fondly as he spoke of it. "You said that you moved to get away, but you could've moved anywhere else in the _entire_ country. Not only did you move to Los Angeles, where I _happened_ to be living, but you moved to my neighborhood, my street, even. Then I ran into you." He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. "And I was absolutely infatuated with you, the moment I saw you."

"Please," You murmured, laughing softly. He did have a point, definitely - the two of you had had a string of coincidences unlike anything you'd ever heard. "You're just a nice guy that almost ran down a woman trying to get her mail."

He chuckled softly, kissing your forehead again. "I mean it. When I ran you down, I felt so terrible. I mean, yeah, I'm a fairly nice guy, but I don't usually dwell on things like that as hard as I did. I thought about you all night, and I got up at six the next morning to go buy you the prettiest flowers I could find without being too obvious."

His confession made your heart swell with warmth. "Did you really?"

He nodded, smiling sheepishly. His cheeks were slightly red with embarrassment. "I really thought that you were going to cuss me out or tell me to go to hell, but you were nice to me, even though I practically ran you over. It was...refreshing." He grinned. "And when you invited me inside with the flowers, I was so nervous. You kept saying, "Scott, honey!" and I thought you were talking to a boyfriend. I have to admit, I was kind of disappointed."

You giggled, kissing his nose. He was gushing all of this, as if scared he'd lose the courage to keep admitting all of these things to you. "You're such a doof."

Mark was smiling. "I'm your doof."

You pressed your head into his chest, tucking your arms between you. "Yeah, Mark, you are." His fingers brushed your chin, pulling your lips up to his. "Always," You whispered against his lips.


	20. The Big Day

"I can't believe this is happening," Your sister said, fanning her hands at her face. She'd been on the verge of tears for hours now, ever since she'd first arrived at the salon. Come to think of it, she was more emotional about your big day than you were, but you weren't surprised. She'd always been a _bit_ dramatic, but you loved her for it. She was just caring, really, _really_ hard. "Look at you. You're breathtaking."

You turned around, and your breath caught in your throat. They'd been refusing you a mirror for _hours,_ claiming that you weren't allowed to see yourself until they were completely finished. Now you understood. You barely recognized yourself - your [dress](http://heathermcteer.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/long-sleeve-all-lace-wedding-dress.jpg) fit your body just right, complimenting all of the right features, and your hair and makeup were done in a beautiful yet simple elegance. After all, the dress was the main piece, and when they tucked your veil into place, it brought tears to your eyes.

"No!" Your mother whispered, offering you a sympathetic smile. "No crying, honey, you'll mess up all of poor Lisa's hard work."

Lisa was your stylist - a short, shapely woman with delicate features and a beautiful smile. Her touches were soft and her work was absolutely to die for. You'd hired her on the spot, and she'd been nothing but kind to you, never creating a problem. When you looked at her, she was laughing softly, a tissue ready. "Do you need it?"

"No, no, I'm okay," You sniffled, placing a hand at your chest. "Thank you so much for this."

Lisa laughed again, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. "You were already beautiful, honey. I just amped it up a little. Mark is a lucky man."

Your mother joined in with her own soft chuckle, grabbing your bouquet from the vanity. She placed it into your hands and then raised her own to your cheeks, forcing your gaze to hers. "Lisa's right, he's such a lucky man." She smiled sweetly. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you for making it work. You're such a lovely family, and your father really just adores Mark. You're lucky, considering he's so picky about the men in your life."

You laughed, placing a soft kiss on your mother's forehead. "Thank you, mom."

She and the rest of your family had only met Mark the week before, and they all seemed to take to him immediately. You'd known that they would, considering he was so gentle and kind-hearted. Alec was absolutely smitten with him, and took every available opportunity to talk to him about Naughty Dog and different games he'd worked on. Mark enjoyed their conversations just as much, which made you smile. Apparently, Gracie had become a fan of his also, and she'd nearly jumped out of her skin when she connected the dots - that "your" Mark and "her" Mark were one and the same.

"It's almost time," Gracie squealed, bouncing excitedly on her toes. She reminded you of Scott when she did that. "Are  you ready?"

You grinned, nodding. "I've been ready to marry this man for months." Your mother was tearing up, and you gingerly reached over to wipe a stray tear. "Don't cry, Mom. The ceremony hasn't even started yet."

She let out a sniffle, smiling. "You're just so grown up, baby. My little girl is getting married." With that, she kissed you on the cheek and ushered you towards the door. Your father was waiting outside, and upon seeing you, his jaw fell open.

"You really took the phrase, 'knock em dead' to heart there, pumpkin." He grinned that mischievous grin of his, pulling you into his arms for a warm hug.

You giggled, linking your arm through his. "Just have to make sure that he knows I'm a catch, dad."

Your father laughed, beginning to guide you towards the large french doors. "Oh, honey, he knows. I don't think he'd have gone to this much trouble if he didn't."

You knew what he meant - Mark had insisted on having an expensive wedding, and no matter how they protested, he did everything he could to help your parents cover the cost. He and you had both agreed upon having it at the very same country club he'd proposed at, only in the gardens, which was a very, _very_ expensive venue. He'd also made sure that you picked out fairytale-like decorations, shaping the place up to be one of the venues you'd see in a "World's Most Expensive Weddings" article. "I want you to feel like my princess," He'd kept saying, smiling and handing you something more expensive. He'd succeeded, and tonight, you felt more like a queen.

Your father stopped just before the large, beautifully carved doors, turning to face you. "Are you ready, pumpkin?"

"Let's go get 'em." You grinned, allowing him to lead you forward. Two waiters pulled open the doors, and what lay beyond made your heart swell. It was like a scene from a Disney movie - beautiful flowers lined both sides of the white silk path, covered in various elegant vines and bundles of little white lanterns, all lit to illuminate the path. It was dusk outside, just because neither you nor Mark had wanted to make your guests endure the LA heat in an outdoor wedding.

About twenty feet from where you stood, the flowers stopped abruptly as two large oaks took their place, a marble frame placed delicately between them. The frame was littered with flowers and lanterns, and marked the beginning of the ceremony seating. They were simple white chairs, as with any wedding, but the backs of them were layered with white lace and wildflowers, which spiced the scene up quite nicely. The silk path continued between the chairs, and sides were lined with standing lanterns, each wrapped precisely with vines of the very same wildflowers as on the chairs. All of this was placed under a canopy of oaks, from which hung icicle lights and more lanterns, and now, you noticed, someone had draped bundles of wildflowers over their branches. Little candles were nestled into glass jars on the ground of either side of the path.

As your father led you between the two large oaks, you heard gasps and small murmurs. The crowd had begun to turn around, noticing the flower girl - a sweet, delicate eight year old from Mark's stepmother's side of the family. Soon, their eyes found you, and everything hushed as a piano began playing.

At the end of the pathway was a large gazebo, the columns of which were framed by vines and bunches of flowers. Little tealight candles littered the stairs and railing, illuminating the gazebo in a romantic way.

Mark stood just at the top of the stairs, his eyes trained on his feet. When the music began, he raised his eyes, searching desperately for you. When his eyes finally found yours, the biggest grin you'd ever seen split his lips. He was just as breathtaking as your sister had said you were, dressed up and positively polished in his black suit. He'd even had his hair redyed, to "make the color look fresh," as he'd put it. He looked so proud and in love that it made your heart beat rapidly, unable to keep your own smile down. Your father, noticing the exchange, began to walk faster.

He hastily delivered you to Mark's arms and shook his hand, whispering something in his ear. You didn't catch what he said, but you _did_ notice the little smirk on Mark's face afterward.

"Ready, m'lady?" He asked, offering you a hand. When you glanced up at him, there was a faint trace of moistness to his eyes.

You nodded, trying to swallow your own tears, and took his hand, allowing him to guide you up the steps and into the gazebo. The priest awaited the two of you with a warm smile, gazing quite fondly upon the entire interaction.

As he began speaking his words, your eyes fought a battle between Mark and Scott, unable to pick which one to look at. Scott was sitting in the front row, between you and Mark's mothers, swinging his feet excitedly. He was the spitting image of his father today - his black suit was the same brand, and after weeks of pleading, you'd hesitantly agreed to let him have his hair cut in the same style as his father's and dyed bright red on the ends. You had told them to only dye the tips of his unruly black locks, so as not to go _too_ far, but that alone had been enough to make his entire year.

You watched as the priest murmured Scott's cue, catching his attention. He promptly got up, the pillow with your rings on it between his hands, and skipped up to where the three of you stood. "Here you go, Mommy," He said, handing you a ring. You didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd handed you the wrong one, so you stayed silent, watching as Mark came to the same realization.

When he began to head back to his seat, the two of you inconspicuously exchanged them, small smirks on your lips. As you stared down at the ring between your fingers, you couldn't help but begin to tear up again. You'd been waiting for this moment for weeks now, and to be here, in such a beautiful setting, was just a beautiful dream.

"I do," Mark murmured, silencing your thoughts. You looked up and realized that he was staring at you with the fierce intensity that could only mean love and adoration. You matched his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. The priest asked you the very same question, and without looking at him, you answered.

"I do."

You could barely hear the priest over the sound of your beating heart, but luckily, Mark was much more focused. He squeezed your hands, grinning like an idiot. "I, Mark Edward Fischbach, take thee (F/N) (M/N) (L/N) to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and to cherish, until death do us part."

You grinned, listening as the priest fed you the same words. "And I, (F/N) (M/N) (L/N), take thee Mark Edward Fischbach to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and to cherish, until death do us part."

The priest continued, watching the two of you with a shared fondness. He instructed you to gift each other with the rings, announcing the traditional words as he did so. When Mark slid your wedding ring onto your finger, you felt your breath catch, trying your best not to start crying.

"You may now seal the promises you have made with each other with a kiss."

Mark was on you before you could even process the priest's words, one hand snaking around your waist, and the other gently cupping your cheek. He softly pressed his lips against yours, dipping you back in a cliche - but utterly adorable - fashion. When he finally released you, the priest stepped forward, spreading his arms out.

He grinned. "Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the loving couple, Mr. and Mrs. Mark and (Y/N) Fischbach!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd, and as Mark pulled you lovingly into his side, a pair of little arms wrapped themselves around your legs. You looked down, giggling softly. "Hey there, baby."

Mark scooped Scott up with his free arm, squeezing the little kid into his side. Scott was giggling happily, little hands reaching for you. The three of you began to laugh, sharing a warm hug, before turning to face your audience.

Mark was hot on your heels as you made your way down into the crowd, instantly welcomed by a series of warm smiles and friendly words. Both you and Mark's parents gave their fair share of teary hugs, but Gracie's was by far the messiest. She was full-on sobbing, dabbing at her cheeks with what you guessed was not her first tissue. Somehow, though, her makeup was still perfectly intact.

"So, the reception's not for a few hours. What do you three have on the agenda?" Your father asked, halting the few side conversations happening in your small group. It was you and your husband, Scott, your parents and siblings, Mark's mother and stepmother, as well as his brother, Tom.

"I'm going to change out of this thing," You said, motioning to your dress. As much as you adored how it looked, you couldn't wait to change into the beautiful - yet surprisingly comfortable - [reception dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/a7/c7/85/a7c78543e48ec63979e6ff7fdff70263.jpg) you'd picked out.

"I'm sure you'll look just as beautiful." Mark's mother stood on her toes, placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, before moving on to her son. She did the very same, gripping his jaw securely. "I'll see you at the reception, sweetheart. Take care of your wife until then."

"I plan to," Mark murmured, grinning.

Gracie gasped, quickly placing her hands over Scott's ears. " _Mark,"_ she hissed, cheeks flushed.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, I didn't mean it like that." With that, he scooped his son up once again, kissing his forehead. "Scott, (Y/N), and I are going to go spend some time as a family."

Your mother placed a hand on your arm, kissing your cheek. "We'll see you at the reception, sweetie." With that, she ushered your father and siblings off, leaving room for more people to worm their way in to give you your congratulations. Mark's mothers and brother had also disappeared, and the three of you were completely at the crowd's mercy.

After talking for a few minutes, Mark politely excused himself and guided you out to the car, which you noticed had _mysteriously_ been decorated in typical "newly-weds" fashion. You giggled, sliding into the passenger seat. Mark put Scott in his booster seat and then joined you in the front, his right hand reaching greedily for yours. His eyes glanced over at you the entire way home, getting away with as much as he could before you yelled at him to watch the road.

When you were finally home, he told you to stay put, running around to your side of the car. Carefully, Mark tucked his arms underneath your legs and back, propping you up into a bride-like embrace. He grinned down at you, kissing you softly on the lips, and headed promptly for the front door.

"Scott, can you open the front door for Daddy?"

Scott nodded, running for the front door and pushing it open. Mark turned sideways, slipping through the doorframe, and ushered you inside. Scott closed it behind you, beaming.

"You can set me down now," You giggled, looking up at Mark.

He shook his head, grinning. "I just don't want to, is the thing." He pulled you closer into his chest, releasing his hold on your legs so that he could hug you more naturally. You buried your head in his shoulder, a loving smile plastered across your face. "When I first saw you, standing there," He whispered in your ear, "It felt like seeing the world for the very first time." Mark leaned back so that he could see your face, his eyes oddly shiny. "I felt as though I'd been living in black and white and you brought the color into it."

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your own eyes. "You're such a sap," You sniffled, trying to hide how much his words had made your heart swell.

Mark chuckled. "I'm just an idiot in love." He placed a soft kiss on your lips. "An now, _wife,_ I suggest we go change and lounge around for a bit, hm?"

You giggled, kissing his nose. "I couldn't agree more." As you began to walk down the hallway, trail grazing the floor behind you, you stopped to look at him. Stretching your fingers out to him, you murmured, "I love you."

His fingers met yours, bringing them to his lips. "And I you, more than I could ever put into words."

 

 


	21. Waffles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry. I've been meaning to update this, I've just been really busy. There will be more soon after this, I promise!

The reception had been long and touching, and you had to admit, you'd shed _quite_ a few tears. After all, there was something about standing in a room full of people there to see _you,_ and all the while knowing that there was one sole person who's intentions mattered more than anyone else's. Mark was a giddy full, constantly pulling you in by your waist and throwing Scott over his shoulder, just so happy to show off his little family to the world. 

The beginning of the reception had been both slow and tedious, and consisted mainly of heartfelt toasts and speeches. During this time, a lot of Mark's YouTube friends had shown up, increasing your venue size quite a bit. It was alright, though - the two of you had planned ahead. Altogether, you found yourself surrounded by such a lovely group of people, all faces you'd known and learned. Bob, Wade, Molly, Mandy, Jack, Signe, Felix, Marzia, Ken, Mary, Dodger, even PJ. There were countless more, but as they continued to arrive, they all began to bleed into one happy blur.

So here you were, sitting in a chair at a table on the far end of the room, at the head of everything, watching as your loving husband grabbed a guitar and made his way to the stage. The music stopped - many were unsure of what he was doing, but judging by the knowing smiles on his friends' faces, they were not included in that confusion.

You smiled nervously, knowing fully well that he was up to something. What, you had no idea, but you were anxious to find out.

"I, uhm-" Mark adjusted the microphone, nervously finding his seat on a stool placed out for him. He adjusted the microphone once again, finally finding a good spot, and brought the guitar up onto his leg, propping it up as any player would. "I've been working on this song for a little while. I knew it a long time ago. (Y/N) and Bob know the story." He laughed, finding your eyes in the crowd. His smile was breathtaking. "Promise you won't dump me after?"

You giggled at the thought, nodding your head. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, Mark told Bob during their MusAid livestream about how he learned to play 'Hey There Delilah' for a girl his senior year of high school, and after he was done, she dumped him.)

He took a deep, shaky breath and put his hands to the guitar, deciding to dive right into it. Ever so slowly, his fingers began to pluck the strings, sending a familiar tune in your direction. As soon as he was confident in his hand placement, he looked up, his eyes locked lovingly on yours.

It was a short two measures before he started singing, and when he did, you felt as though the floor had fallen out from under you. Sure, you'd heard Mark jokingly sing things at you, and you'd gone to a vocal lesson or two with him, but this was different. This was him singing to you, pouring every ounce of love and affection that he possibly could into words that weren't intended for you to begin with.

When he got to the chorus, you lost it. You were bawling, but you wouldn't have known if it weren't for Signe's soft hands and smile, wiping gingerly at your cheeks. No, your eyes were on your husband, who also seemed to be tearing up a little. His voice had gotten a little more gruff, but it worked with the song, and you could only think that you never wanted him to stop.

 _"Oh, it's what you do to me."_ He smiled then, his canines bared fully for your pleasure, and dove into the second verse with a renewed purpose. As he sung, your feet found the floor and carried you forward, unaware of the happy smiles and tearful gazes cast in your direction.

By the time he'd reached the line, " _We'll have the life we knew we would,_ " you were standing feet from the stage, gazing up at him with wide, tearful eyes. He just grinned happily down at you, the words continuing to fall from his lips as if they were born there. In what felt like the span of a second, he'd reached the chorus _and_ the next verse, never managing to break eye contact with you.

So when he hit the final chorus, and stood from his stool, making his way down to stand right before you, you felt your heart swell with a love who's magnitude you'd never felt before. He came closer, until his face was a foot from yours, and the backs of his wrists brushed your skin every time he switched chords. You were just watching him, amazed at this man, this _angel_ that you had the pleasure of calling your husband.

 _"What you do to me."_ The very moment the last syllable left his lips, he slung his guitar back over his shoulder and wrapped you in his arms, lips finally coming home to yours. It was one of the most heartfelt kisses you'd ever shared, and as the two of you parted, laughing, you both had happy tears springing at the corners of your eyes.

"So _that's_ what all of the horrible sounds I've been hearing from your recording room for the past few months has been," You murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you in. "Was it that bad?" He asked, trying to mock a serious tone; it was utterly collapsed by his devious smirk threatening to peak underneath, and eventually, the smile won out. People were cheering and moving closer, but Mark didn't seem to notice. He could only see you.

"Terrible. I thought you'd taken up slaughtering poor little animals." You giggled, pressing a soft kiss on his nose.

He just grinned, letting out a small chuckle. "Well, was the final product better?"

You laughed, nodding. "Good enough that I don't have to dump you."

His smile was blinding. "I'll take it." Suddenly, Mark swooped you up bridal style, his chocolate eyes taking on a devious glint. "I say," He murmured into your ear, quiet enough to escape reaches of the people the two of you were passing, "We eat some cake, reclaim our son from my mother, and call it a night."

You giggled in his arms, nodding. "I'm down."

 

* * *

 

 

"So I see you made breakfast, _wife._ " You felt arms circle your waist and warmth against your back. Smiling, you looked up over your shoulder, spotting a groggy Mark with disheveled hair and glasses slightly askew.

Fixing his glasses, you smiled, murmuring, "Sure did, loving husband." As you began to scoop a fresh pile of waffles onto a plate, you leaned over to kiss his cheek, giddy with the new knowledge of your relationship status.

Mark grinned like a child on Christmas, looking so unbelievably like your son that it gave you pause. After a moment of watching you prepare is plate, he took it from you, guiding himself over to the table where Scott was already devouring his third waffle. He grinned happily at his father, mumbling something incoherent with a mouth full of food.

Mark chuckled. "Don't talk with your mouth full, kiddo." He ruffled Scott's hair as he sat down, his chocolate eyes watching his son's sporadic movements. "How did you sleep?"

Scott was as full of energy as usual, and his response definitely gave that away. "Great, daddy! I had a dream that a dragon took Mommy, and we had to go get her! You kicked the _butt_ out of him, it was awesome!" He said his nonchalantly, and then immediately dove back into his food.

Mark chuckled, turning to you. "How about you, babe?"

You felt your cheeks flush instantly. He knew fully well that you'd slept like a rock, mainly because _he'd_ been the one to tire you out in the first place. Something about seeing you in your wedding dress had really turned Mark on, and the second you'd put Scott to bed, his fingers were undressing you as much as his eyes had been all day. You'd made love longer than ever before, albeit _rough_ love, but love all the same. Something had changed in the way he looked at you - whereas before, he gazed at you like you painted the world before him, now, he gazed at you as though you _were_ the world. Simply looking at him was enough to make your chest swell and your breath quicken.

"I slept wonderfully," You murmured cheekily, taking your place next to Scott and across from Mark. "How about _you_?"

He grinned wickedly. "Like a baby." As he dove into his food, he winked, sending a small jolt through your body.

You just smiled back at him, cheeks still red, and decided to smother any witty remarks with homemade waffles with your son and husband. What a lovely thought.


	22. Surprise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's only going to be a few more chapters to this story, seeing as how we're getting pretty far along in the plot! If you guys have any specific suggestions for this little family of three, leave them below and I'll try to include them somehow!
> 
> This chapter is two years later than the last one

"Scott, baby, wait up!"

Scott was running ahead, his long legs carrying him farther than you were able to keep up with. Running after your seven-year-old son while balancing a bag of groceries in one hand, and a dog leash in the other was much more difficult than you'd imagined it would be. Sure enough, though, your lovely son decided to cut you a break and stop at the beginning of the crosswalk, grinning back at you.

"Hey, Mom!" He shouted, pointing across the street. You followed his motion, giggling as you did so; a man was struggling to keep up with what looked to be about ten large dogs, all pulling him in different directions. You'd have offered your help if you weren't already struggling yourself.

"Don't point, Scott, it's rude," You murmured, coming up beside him. Much to your appreciation, he freed your hand of Chica's leash, giving her a soft pat on the head. You wouldn't usually let him do it, but she was level-headed and never pulled, so you thought he could handle it. For a seven-year-old, he was getting tall. It definitely wasn't from his father. "Okay, the light is green. Stay close to me."

You placed your free hand on his shoulder, guiding him across the street to the other side. Mark was recording at home, and you had the day off, so you'd taken Scott and Chica into town to do a little shopping and get some ice cream. Come to think of it, you'd been doing a lot with them these days - you worked from home now, mainly editing videos for various accounts on YouTube and keeping up with the YouTube social media accounts. You'd actually gotten quite a bit of a promotion last summer, and you teased Mark all the time about being the bread-winner of the family. It wasn't true, though - his earnings were definitely larger than yours, even if he did play video games for a living.

"Excuse me." You felt a small tap on your shoulder, and when you looked, there was a kind-looking woman standing just behind you. She looked to be in her fifties, with curly brown hair and friendly green eyes. The expression on her face was so warm that it made you smile, too. "Is that your son?" She motioned to Scott, who had stopped at your side expectantly.

"He is," You murmured back, running a hand through his hair. He laughed and pushed your hand away, trying to fix his unruly black locks. He'd gotten a haircut recently, so his hair was shorter on the sides and floofier in the middle, identical to his father - minus the red, of course.

"He's beautiful," She murmured, looking back to you. "Are you expecting?"

Her question caught you off guard. You looked down expectantly, your free hand pressing self-consciously to your stomach. "I-no, I'm not."

She just smiled. "You're glowing." Her soft fingers brushed against your arm, guiding your hand back to your stomach. "You're expecting."

"That's not possible," You said, letting out a nervous laugh.

Once again, she geared a warm smile in your direction, letting out a soft sigh. "I would schedule a doctor's appointment." With that, she adjusted her purse and walked off, looking happier than ever. "And be sure to buy pink. That's my guess, anyway."

She was gone before you could respond, and Scott looked at you with a confused look on his face. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" You rested your hand on his head again, forcing your gaze away from the sidewalk she'd disappeared down.

"What did she mean?"

You kissed his forehead. "Nothing, sweetheart. Come on."

 

* * *

 

"You'll never believe what happened to me today," You murmured, setting the bag of groceries on the counter.

Mark had come downstairs when he'd heard the car doors shut, anxious to see you since you'd been gone all day. Apparently, he'd been attempting Vanish with the Oculus Rift, and one look at his face had told you it had been an unsuccessful, rage-filled attempt. As you tucked the last package into the fridge, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, turning you around to face him. "What happened?"

You adjusted his glasses, askew on his nose, and brushed his red locks from his eyes. "So there was this woman, I have no idea who she is, she walked up to Scott and I when we were heading back to the car." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. Mark stood in front of you, hands resting on your hips. He was listening intently, and nodded for you to go on. "She asked me if I was expecting, and at first I thought she meant because I looked _fat-_ "

Mark chuckled, shaking his head, "As if."

You grinned, "You're interrupting. _Anyway,"_ You shot him a look, but it quickly dissolved into a laugh, "She said it was because I was glowing, and told me that I should make an appointment." You let out a small sigh. "I tried to tell her that it wasn't possible, but she didn't believe me. She even told me to buy pink!"

Mark chuckled again, placing a soft kiss on your nose. "Maybe you are pregnant."

"Mark," You murmured, checking to make sure that Scott wasn't in the room, "I _can't_ be, we use condoms. And unless there's something I'm unaware of, none of them have broken."

The look on his face was enough.

" _Mark."_ You drew out the sound a little, raising a brow. "What did you do that you haven't told me about?"

He avoided your eyes, instead abandoning your arms and heading to the coffee maker. "Wow, we need more coffee. I guess that means another trip to the store." He let out a dramatic shrug of his shoulders. "You've already been today, I won't make you go again. I can just go really quick-"

"Mark Edward Fischbach, look at me." You stood up straight, taking a few steps closer.

Ever so slowly, he turned around, practically wincing. "Yes?"

"What did you do?" Your arms crossed at your chest, waiting for an answer.

He fiddled with his thumbs, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. "Do you remember that night, a couple of weeks ago, when Scott was with your mom and you and I hung out with Felix and Marzia?"

You nodded dumbly, unsure of what he was getting out. It wasn't like you'd been drinking - well, _he_ hadn't. You might've been a little tipsy, but that wasn't a big deal.

"Remember how, after we got home, you were kind of drunk and being really...um...," His face turned a little red, and though it was adorable, you were staring at him expectantly, " _Affectionate?"_

"Spit it out, you doof."

"I didn't use a condom." His cheeks were flaming by now, and he cast his gaze down at his hands, like a scolded child.

"You didn't use a condom." You sounded out the words, shooting them back at him. "You didn't use a condom?"

"Well, we were in the moment, and you looked _really_...er- _good_ in that dress, and I didn't think about it," He admitted, a sorry smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I know that this is my fault, but...I also didn't want to."

You were dumbfounded. Not upset, or angry, as some might have been, just confused. "You didn't want to?"

He stepped forward then, grabbing for your hands. You knew that this was a bit of a struggle for him, so you offered him a reassuring smile. You could tell by the way his shoulders relaxed that it helped him. "Look, (Y/N), I missed a lot with Scott, and I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I..." He trailed off, swallowing. "I want to have another baby. I want to be there for this one. I...I didn't get to be a part of any of it with him. Seeing him come into this world, hearing his first words, seeing his first steps. The only bits I've seen are through pictures you've taken."

When you looked up at him, he was tearing up a little. "Am I a terrible dad?" He asked, frowning.

"No, baby," You murmured, heart sinking. You placed your hands on either side of his face and a soft kiss on his lips. "You're a great dad. How could you ever think that?"

He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. "I just wish I could've been there. I want to be a part of it. I want more kids."

You were silent for a second, mulling over it. You wanted more kids too, but _damn,_ you'd of liked to have been consulted. You weren't mad, though. It _was_ a spur of the moment thing, and even though he hadn't really asked for your opinion, you could definitely understand where he was coming from. You wanted that for him, too - Mark deserved to be a part of those first five years, even if it wasn't with Scott.

"Then let's do it," You said finally.

"What?" Mark's face had never lifted so fast. His smile was blinding. "Really?"

You nodded, grinning. "Really. Let's have another baby."

His arms wrapped securely around your torso and lifted you up, spinning you in a small circle. When he finally set you down, he kissed you all over  your face, his lips finally settling on your own. "Let's have another baby," He whispered back at you, grinning like an idiot. After holding you for a moment longer, he released you, dashing off down the hallway.

"Mark?" You called, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Looking up the number for your doctor!" His voice rang back. "We're going tomorrow! I can't wait!"

 


	23. Slow Your Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOWEE BOI HOWDY has it been a while, am I right? I couldn't bear to keep from continuing this little nugget, so here we are! Before we get into it though....*coughs* I want to dedicate this chapter to ExoticButters (Anna_Greene) because she recommended this story to someone looking for "good" Mark/Reader fics, and what she may not be aware of is that It Started With A Flash Drive has been my most recent guilty pleasure. Also, she's adorable, so if you haven't checked that story out, holy god, do it now =)

"Babe!" Mark's voice carried down the hallway. "Babe! _(Y/N)!"_

You dropped the spatula onto the counter, bitterly accepting that his problem may yet cause these lovely little pancakes to get a little... _toasty,_ and rushed down the hall to the vacant room that was soon to be your nursery.

"What?" You called, coming around the bend just in time to witness what was possibly the greatest sight you'd laid eyes on in quite some time; Mark was sprawled on the ground, entangled in the curtain liners he'd been trying to hang up on the big bay windows to the far left. You giggled, leaning against the door frame with both brows raised. "How the hell did you get yourself in this position?"

Mark let out a huff and lay back against the carpet, accepting the mess he'd created. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Giggling again, you took a few steps forward, offering him a tender hand. Sure, it was a pathetic effort and you knew full and well that you wouldn't be able to support all of his weight, but hey, at least you tried. "You're such a goof."

"I just..." He sighed. "I had a thought...Don't be mad, but..."

"Mark, I swear to god, if this is about the curtains not matching the walls, I'm going to-"

"No, no, not this time." He grinned sheepishly and untangled his legs, tossing the curtains into the crib. "I was thinking, and..."

"...And?" You weren't quite sure why he was being so reluctant with you. "Spit it out, and do it in the kitchen. Breakfast is going to burn."

He did as you said, placing a hand at the small of your back and guiding you towards the kitchen. By some grace, the pancakes hadn't burned yet, and you made a quick effort of flipping them over. "I think I do want to know the gender."

"Didn't we talk about this last night?" You asked skeptically, eyeing him out of the corner of your vision. He leaned against the counter in front of the sink, looking down at his hands as if he were a child telling his mother he'd broken something. "And wasn't it _you_ that said it was better as a surprise?"

"Yeah, it was, but..." He shrugged, offering you a boyish half-smile. "I'm just excited, you know?"

"I _do_ know that, yes." You grinned, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Your _excited_ -ness has been driving me up a wall."

Mark grinned as well, wrapping his arms around your sides and delicately kissing your jawline. "Hey, don't act all high and mighty just because this is your second kid."

"It's your second kid too, doofus."

"Yes, but I was robbed of the title by a cute girl in a black dress. And on my birthday, too!"

"It's my birthday too!" You put your hands on your hips, trying your best to keep from smiling. Despite your best efforts, your lips broke. "And don't act like I consciously decided to have a kid by myself." You giggled. "Honestly, it was your morning breath that drove me away."

"Oh, that's it, huh?" He grinned, raising a brow at you. "The truth finally comes out."

"There it is, plain and simple." You winked and turned back to your pancakes, removing them from the heat and dumping them onto the plate you'd set aside. Mark watched on hungrily, his eyes nearly as ravenous-looking as the drool at his mouth. "Ew, Mark, gross."

"What can I say? Your cooking does wonders for my appetite." He nabbed a searing hot pancake off of the plate at you passed, waving it around and blowing on it in a vain attempt to cool it down.

"You're acting like you're six years old."

"Like father, like son."

"I've lost track of which one is which."

Mark stuck his tongue out at you and poured the two of you cups of coffee, fixing yours the way he knew you liked. "Listen here, missy," He murmured as he stirred the bitter liquid, looking at you over the rims of his glasses. "You're asking for it."

"Asking for what?" You asked innocently, preparing his plate with three of the pancakes and three strips of bacon. Just to be sweet, you put a little powdered sugar on top, as you knew he loved. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Alright, that's it." Suddenly there were arms around your waist, picking you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder. "Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're free from the tickle monster."

"You're six years old!" You shouted, already laughing. He tossed you gently onto the couch and pinned you with his knee, fingers delving into the space between your ribs and pelvis, relentlessly begging more laughs from your throat. You obliged, trying your best to fend off his attacks, but he was stronger. "Okay! Okay!"

He grinned, pulling you up by the arms and wrapping them around his own torso, somehow turning it into a tender hug. His lips brushed the tip of your nose, sending the smallest rush of heat to your cheeks. "Gotcha," He murmured, smiling like an idiot.

"Hardy har har," You muttered back, laying your face against his shoulder.

You sat like that for a minute, holding onto each other and smiling in the very same way you had in the first weeks of your giddy relationship, each waiting for the other to start talking again.

"So," Mark said at last, pulling back to look at you, "Do you mind if we _do_ find out the gender...soon?"

"Of course I don't mind, Mark." You laughed, kissing his cheek. "Like you said, you got robbed of the 'daddy' role. I'm not going to tell you no."

The look on his face was _obnoxiously_ sexual. "Well, I wouldn't say I was _completely_ robbed of the daddy role."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. So much."

"Oh, hush."

"Make me."

"How long before Scott comes home?"

"A few hours, why?" You looked at him, a brow raised.

"Because," He said darkly, "You better run." With that, he smacked your butt, and you quickly pulled free of his embrace, running giddily towards the bedroom.


End file.
